


An Act of Fate

by acwilliams



Category: Anne - Fandom, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:36:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acwilliams/pseuds/acwilliams
Summary: One event sealed her fate and the course of history forever, but what would happen if it was changed? If what was known as fact was changed to fiction how drastically would history be altered, or would everything remain the same?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: First of all, this is NOT a stolen story. I am QueenAnne30 on fanfiction.net, you can find my original posting of this story at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7784640/1/An-Act-Of-Fate, where the first 27 chapters have been posted. I simply wanted to post my story to a different site in order to get more diverse range of feedback. I am so sorry for any confusion this may have caused initially, although it was so pleasing to see so many of my readers coming to my defence when they thought my work had been plagiarised, it is heartwarming to see, I realise now that I should have made this clear when I first posted the story on here. I will be updating the story here bit by bit and then on par with fan fiction.net I am just trying to work out formatting on this website. 
> 
> So basically this is a story of what would happen if one moment in history was altered slightly and how it would affect our beloved Tudors and the rest of their days. Put simply this is in essence the way I wanted it to go, and since I am currently without any means of changing the past I have decided to write it down.
> 
> For this story I will mostly stick to the show (especially in things such as appearance and age), however I will also try my hardest to remain true to History as well. In saying that I am going to note a few changes:
> 
> In 'The Tudors' Henry had one sister Princess Margret who married the Duke of Suffolk, I will not be sticking to this as it essentially eliminates The Lady Jane grey and King James from existence. So like in reality, Princess Mary the dowager Queen of France married the Duke of Suffolk and together they had 3 children.
> 
> In 'The Tudors' Henry Fitzroy the Duke of Richmond died no older than the age of 5, when actually he lived to the age of 17, I have not yet decided if he is going to die as he did in history, but for the present time he is still alive and well.
> 
> This story takes place in Episode 8 of season 2, following the scene were Anne found Henry with Jane on his knee.
> 
> As one cannot own the past I own nothing.

Chapter One: 

Anne Boleyn, Queen of England, Ireland and France knew without any doubt that her time was nearing an end.

Her husband no longer loved her. Henry had spent more than seven years pulling his country apart for her, for their love yet now he was willing to throw it away for a mere a blonde slut who would not spread her legs for him. Anne was being cast aside by the same means she had used to replace Katherine, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the thought.

Her pregnancy had done nothing to ease her troubled mind, Anne was not deluded enough to think that everything would return to the way it once was simply because she had found herself once again with child.

If she lost the baby she would be replaced instantly. Jane Seymour would be in her throne before the blood had even dried, filling it up with weak blonde brats. If the child that she was carrying was a girl she was as good as gone, a healthy daughter would buy her a few months, a year if Henry was feeling particularly generous. If she gave birth to a son, a healthy prince the living image of his father, she would still be replaced, not as his queen but as his love and Anne knew that she would rather die than allow that to happen….

Anne's only hope was to die. If she died in childbirth (a fear that was not unreasonable) she would be replaced son or no son, Henry would forget about her, about their love in a mere second in those pale wenches' arms. Yet, she would not have to see it, she would not have to watch as her husband loved another, she would not have to stand there and be ignored. If she died giving him a son she would be forever remembered as the mother of the future king, the woman who birthed the golden age of the Tudors….and that would never change.

Anne didn't want to die; she held no desire to leave Elizabeth in this world alone to fend for herself. Yet still she found herself wishing for death as if it were an old friend. Henry had broken her heart, broke it to a point where she didn't know if it would ever mend. How could he do that to her? Parade his slut around without a thought for his pregnant wife, how could he seduce his whore so openly with Anne in the condition that she was in?

The sight she had seen earlier that day had all but destroyed her. Jane in Henry's arms, the love in his eyes it was a look that had once been hers and hers alone and it had broke her heart to see him love another's. In all of her 28 years of life Anne had never before felt such despair…such utter hopelessness , in her heart she knew that Henry wasn't looking at a mere mistress he wanted to bed he was looking at a woman he wanted to marry.

She had almost lost herself completely in those moments after she saw them, she had felt a blinding rage, an anger so forceful she was sure she could have killed Jane Seymour with her bare hands. If Henry had not stopped her she would have lost the baby, and she cursed herself for being so weak, for letting her emotions control her to a point where she put her precious child's life in danger.

Henry had returned her to her rooms and instructed her ladies to put her to bed as if she were some naughty school girl and not his wife and queen the mother of his only heir. He had not uttered a word to her and Anne knew it was not because of any feelings of guilt.

No, Henry Tudor King of England, Ireland and France did not feel guilty. It was his divine right to take a mistress and it was her duty to ignore it, to 'grin and bear it like your betters have done before you' as her husband had so kindly put it.

She didn't know how it had come to this, they had been happy she knew they had been, they had been so in love that it had consumed their very beings, and now she thought what did they have now? He had his whore, his pale wench, and she had nothing, she was nothing…nothing more than a queen without her king's love.

No, she thought wishing her tears away; she did have something…something that could never be taken from her no matter how hard Henry tried. Elizabeth, their darling daughter, Anne's perfect princess, she would not give her up for a hundred son's. She is ours, completely and utterly ours, A Boleyn rose and a Tudor princess, Elizabeth was the one pure thing they had done in their lives, and Anne did not even want to consider what would happen to Elizabeth if she failed now, if she lost her last chance.

Would he declare her a bastard? Anne wondered thinking of Katherine, of Mary. Was this pain she was feeling justice for what had occurred to them?

No, Henry would see reason…Anne would make him see reason once she had delivered him a son all would be well, he fought so hard for me, gave so much for the love we once had, Henry wouldn't throw everything we had fought so hard to build for one pale slut, Anne had to believe it, she had to believe that eleven years were worth something, that seven years of waiting was worth more than a blonde bitch who couldn't even write her own name.

"Argh," Anne's scream tore through her silent chambers like a knife, immediately her hands fell to her stomach, her boy…No, she would not let him die. She could feel the blood pooling out of her, she could hear the gasps of her ladies entering the room, but she couldn't spare them a thought she had to stop it, this was not going to happen, she would not allow it to happen, " No, my boy…not my boy," she cried helplessly curling herself in a ball in an attempt to stop the blood that was flowing, " please stay with me, stay with me," She whispered feeling herself getting weaker, and she was sure as she slipped slowly into blackness that the blood had stopped flowing.


	2. Chapter 2

January 28th 1536

The Queens bedroom was strictly forbidden to all save the midwifes, Dr Linacre and two of Anne's ladies. This was something that Dr Linacre had made very clear, Not the Queen's Father, Brother, nor even her husband were permitted entrance into Anne's bedchamber. At first Henry had been appalled; he had wanted to strangle the doctor with all his might. He was the King of England what right did this man have to tell him what he could and could not do? Then the sound of Anne's screams had echoed off the walls of the too small privy chamber and Henry had surrendered.

He could not be in that room; he could not watch as Anne lost his son, he could not hold her hand and mutter comforting lies into her ears as she failed him in everything she had once promised. He would yell, he knew that, he would yell and scream and threaten her with everything that he had if he entered that room, and if Anne had any chance, as small as it may be (Linacre had made it perfectly clear) to keep his child in her womb than she needed to be kept calm and he couldn't do that.

He was so angry with her; it was an anger that was almost all consuming. How could she allow this to happen? How could she have let her emotions control her in such a way that she would risk poisoning their child with her disgraceful actions and evil thoughts? Katherine would have never behaved in such a way, and Jane his sweet precious Jane, he knew if she was in such a position that she would never have resorted to such violent means.

Anne should have walked away, she should have shut her eyes and let it be, not reduced herself to such a state of panic that will surely result in the death of his son. If his child was lost, if Anne failed him again, he would not show her the mercy he had shown Katherine, he had given Katherine chances upon chances to deliver him his heir and she had failed every time. Anne had said…She had promised him they would be different and he had believed her, so consumed by his love for her he had believed every lie she had whispered into his ear. He would not allow her to make him the laughing stock of Europe, this was her last chance, and only God could help her if she failed him.

"Your majesty," He was so caught up in his thoughts that Henry had not even noticed the Doctors presence in the room, nor (and more importantly) the thick silence that had developed throughout the Queens apartments. Anne was no longer screaming, so this was it, the moment Henry Tudor King of England decided if he were to take a new wife.

Henry motioned for Linacre to continue speaking with a simple nod of his head, "I believe the Queen was in a state of early labour most likely brought on by stress,"

Henry ignored the small feelings of guilt that were slowly ebbing into his thoughts at the man's well placed words, he had nothing to feel guilty for, Anne had overreacted; there was nothing more to it. "And," Henry prompted when Linacre did not continue speaking.

"We did manage to stop the Queens contractions your grace, however Her Majesty has lost a great deal of blood and…"

"Does the child live or not?" Henry snapped fighting with everything he had to control his temper, he wanted answers and he wanted them now.

"The Queen has not miscarried," Linacre responded a small smile on his face; he knew more than anyone else that it was a miracle that both the Queen and her child continued to live.

Henry sighed deeply, a feeling of relief overcoming his body, his son lived, all was not lost.

"Will it continue to do so?" Thomas Boleyn's question was not expected by any in the room, especially not in the cool and reserved manner that it was directed in as if he were talking about something as simple and unimportant as court gossip and not the future of England.

"That remains uncertain," Dr Linacre responded carefully, he did not want to risk upsetting his King, but if he lied and the Queen lost her child then he would face the wrath of Henry, "As I said we managed to stop the Queens contractions; however it is very possible that the Queen will not carry to full term."

"She could deliver early?" Henry questioned that small feeling of calm leaving him very quickly.

"Yes, Your Majesty the queen could give birth possibly two months before she reaches full term, but that doesn't mean the child will not survive. If it is born healthy there is no reason as to why it wouldn't," Linacre said smoothly giving his tone as much hope as he could muster.

"Very well," Henry responded his face a mask not reviling the series of emotions that were playing through his head. All was not well, Anne may not have lost his son, but she had still failed him. She had let her hate of Jane, sweet innocent Jane, overcome her and this was the result. His boy would most likely die, and there would be no question of who was to blame.

"What of Anne… What of the Queen?" George Boleyn questioned, speaking for the first time. He was horrified that none of them had yet asked of Anne's health, her father and her husband cared more for the child, the hope of a male heir than they did for his sister.

"Her majesty is doing as well as can be expected, it is a miracle that both herself and the child continue to live," Dr Linacre answered, his gaze moving away from his king, who was refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room.

Without a word of thanks towards the man who had just saved the lives of both his unborn child and wife, Henry began to make his way out of the Queen's apartments; he had no desire to stay there a moment longer, nor did he wish in any way to lay eyes on his wife.

"Your Grace," Dr Linacre voice stopped him mid step. What could the man possibly want of him now? "While it is true that the Queen is still weak, a short visit from you I am sure would lift her spirits somewhat,"

" I can assure you Dr Linacre than nothing I wish to say to my wife will lift her spirits in anyway," Henry claimed his voice leaving no room for protests from any other in the room. Without another word Henry stormed out of the room without even a glance towards the door that was hiding the once love of his life from his view.

* * *

"Get me the Duke of Suffolk," Henry bellowed towards the nervous page boy who was standing guard outside his door. As he stormed into his room Henry once again found himself pushing away feelings that he could only think of as guilt.

He had all but convinced himself that not seeing Anne was an act of compassion, he was doing what was best for his son, if he went into that room with the rage that he was feeling towards his wife he had no doubt that he would have lashed out at her. As she justly deserved, Henry thought bitterly, Anne had brought these actions upon herself, and therefore his harsh treatment of her was nothing she could ever complain about.

Sitting down at his large wooden desk Henry picked up a piece of parchment and a quill:

_Anne_ he begun taking a deep breath as he thought of the best way to reprimanded his wife without causing harm to his precious heir.

_Anne,_

_I know you are most likely disappointed that I have not come to see you this night, especially considering these most troubling events that have unfolded over the last few hours._

_I am glad that our son continues to live, and that you yourself remain as healthy as can be expected, but I will not apologize for today's events._

_I am the King of England, and it is therefore my right to take a mistress if it pleases me, especially when my wife is with child and not in any position to fill her marital duties. Anne, it is your duty as my wife, Queen and subject to be silent and endure what I tell you, you must accept._

_The Lady Jane is most dear to my heart, you found us in a simple and innocent embrace, and you have imagined evil when there was none, and your overreaction has almost killed my son, this is something I cannot forgive you for, and for this reason I shall not be visiting your rooms tonight._

_Keep well,_

_Your Husband and Lord, Henry King of England_

After reading through his letter no less than three times Henry deemed it sufficient, he sealed it, surely Anne would see the truth of his words, and when she did she would once again return to the woman he had once fallen in love with, instead of the raging bitch she had become when he had placed the crown of England upon her head.

"Your majesty summoned me," Henry ignored Charles' bow of acknowledgement with a wave of his hand motioning for his oldest and dearest friend to sit across from him.

"I suppose you have heard?" Henry questioned, after a moment of thick silence.

"Your majesty knows how quickly gossip spreads through court, you never truly know what to believe," Charles said carefully. It was true that a piece of news had spread to him, not three hours before, but the tales of the Queen's possible miscarriage differed greatly in relation to whom the news came from.

From a maid loyal to Anne he had heard that the midwifes had been mistaken about how far along the Queen's pregnancy had been and she had gone into labour and rumour had it given birth to a beautiful healthy boy. From ambassador Chapuys Charles had been told that the harlot had given birth to a stillborn and disfigured male child, a sign from God of her witchcraft. From the lips of Jane Boleyn he had heard that the Queen had, had a scare but both mother and child still clung to life.

"She all but lost my boy Charles," Henry whispered his voice detached and quiet, "Linacre say's it's a miracle that they both still live… if she had of lost him Charles…"

"But she didn't," Charles spoke, his voice only just audible, "Henry they both live,"

"For now," Henry said solemnly, "I wish for you to go to the Queen's rooms, tell them I sent you and give this letter to her and her only Charles. Do you understand?"

"Of course your majesty," Charles nodded taking the letter into his hands.

"I don't think I could stomach the sight of her tonight,"

Charles made no answer to Henry's comment knowing that it was not he who the King was speaking to. He had never felt any level of pity towards the Queen in the past, and he had made it known more than once that he quiet detested her, yet at this moment he found a level of sympathy for Anne that he had never known before. This woman was once the single most influential woman in all of England (if not Europe) and she had fallen from grace so quickly, so rapidly Charles wasn't quite sure how it had happened.

"Oh and Charles," Henry's voice said stopping him as he was just about to exist the room, "Send word to the Seymour's, I wish to see the Lady Jane,"

"Yes, Your majesty," Charles said stiffly, his smile tight.

* * *

 

Anne felt nothing but pain; her body… her very being was filled with it. A miracle, Dr Linacre had used those exact words to describe the fact that her heart was still beating, and more importantly that her baby, her little boy still clung to life. She was a living miracle, yet her husband had not come to see her, and if her father was right she would not be seeing her husband any time in the near future.

Their child lived, she had made it so, she had held onto him with all her might, she had all but willed him to stay in her womb, and Henry still did not have one kind word to say to her. No, her husband would much rather be in bed with a whore than comforting the woman he once gave the world to.

"Your Majesty," Nan's voice was a welcome relive from her musings, "You have a visitor,"

Anne smiled slightly, only her ladies and members of her family were allowed entrance to her rooms for at least the next two weeks. Henry had not forgotten her completely, even if he was simply visiting her for the sake of appearances, a visit was surely better than none, for if he was with her than he could not be in the embrace of his blonde whore.

To say the appearance of the Duke of Suffolk's bowing form was a disappointment would be a vast understatement. For starters he was not in any way the man she wanted to see, the Duke hated her it was no secret and she held no inclination to be forced to endure his presence when she was in such a delicate state. Secondly (and almost as importantly) she was wearing nothing but her shift, her hair was in a messy plait and she knew that she did not look the queen she always prided herself on being.

"Your grace to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Anne said cordially. Charles could hardly believe how weak and tired she looked. For him it was the first time in all his years of knowing her that he found her to appear human.

"The king sent me to give you this," He waved the letter he was carrying slightly, with her nod of approval he handed her the letter, finding that up close she looked no better off.

Anne opened the letter with trembling hands, finding herself very grateful that the Duke had decided that a particular piece of wall was suddenly extremely fascinating allowing her to read Henry's words without the nagging feeling that her every thought and expression was being watched.

She found herself re-reading the letter over and over particular points echoing in her head with brute force.

He would not apologize; he blamed her entirely for almost killing HIS son…When had her sweet dear Henry turned into this monster…. The Lady Jane is very dear to my heart, how could he say that to her of all people, how could he tell her…after she had all but died saving their child, how could he simply tell her that he loved another, as if their eleven years had meant nothing to him.

"Your grace, if you would not mind handing me a piece of parchment and a quill so as I may respond to the King," Anne said her voice as calm is it had been in weeks.

If Henry no longer cared for the passion they once had she would make him miss it. Anne would make Henry wish for the fire that had once consumed them. She would give him the Ice… the obedient lifelessness he so clearly wanted, that he desired in Jane, until he begged her to give him that heat, the passion they once shared.

_To my loving lord and husband, the kindest and most noble King of England, Ireland and France,_

_Your majesty I must ask you to forgive me for my actions this day, I regret them most terribly and ask your forgiveness for the emotions that I could not keep in check._

_With everything I have, even if I must give my life, I will keep our son alive, so as to give you the one thing that has been forsaken to you for so many years through no fault of your own,_

_Your loving servant,_

_Anne Boleyn, Queen of England_

* * *

 

"Jane," Henry said, caressing her beautiful pale face.

It was a face so different to Anne's; blonde and fair with eyes blue and dull, she was a perfect English rose, not Like Anne, Anne who was so un English, Anne who was dark as Jane was light, Anne whose eyes sucked you in with just a mere look. Jane was everything Anne was not, and he knew that one day (with God's help) that she would give him a whole room of perfect sons.

"Yes, Henry," She said her voice soft and sweet. He shuddered at the use of his name from those Angles lips; he could not believe how lucky he was to have found her…His sweet pure maiden.

"Originally I called for you this night to ask for your maiden head…but I know now that I mustn't do that," Henry never looked away from her as he spoke. He wanted to see her face as he offered her the world, "If Anne fails me…if she does not give me a son or she dies in childbirth I wish to make you my Queen, Jane I wish to be your in every way known to man, to serve you as faithfully as forcefully as I serve God and England,"

"Your majesty, you think to highly of me,"

"Never, Jane you are the light of my world," Henry could not help but smile brightly at the happiness that crossed her faced in response to his words, "and when the time comes I wish to let the whole world know of it,"

Jane did nothing other than lean into Henry's lips kissing him softly knowing that for the time being that was how she must be with him…a sweet innocent maiden, that was how Henry must always think of her, of this her Father and brothers had made perfectly clear.

She did not feel an ounce of guilt over what she was doing, Anne Boleyn was nothing more than a concubine, a Whore wearing Queen Katherine's crown, her pain left Jane with no guilt for wishing for her failure and occasionally even her death. No, Jane did not feel any guilt, what she felt instead was worry… worry over what Henry was not saying, his promises were based on either Anne's failure or her death, the King had not even mentioned what would occur to her if Anne gave birth to a healthy son and lived. If that happened, if Anne did not fail, Jane would become nothing, perhaps his mistress and if she were extremely lucky Henry may decide to make her his official mistress.

Jane may not have been fluent in foreign languages, or able to read and write extremely well, but she was not stupid, Henry would keep her for a few months a year at best and after that she would lose everything. But God would not allow that to happen, Jane knew he would not…She was meant to be Queen her child would be king not the bastard children of Anne Boleyn.


	3. Chapter 3

_**February 5** _ _**th** _ _**1536** _

_**Hatfield Palace** _

_**Residence of Princess Elizabeth and The Lady Mary Tudor** _

"The concubine lives?" Mary Tudor, Princess of England,and the only  _true_  heir to the English throne fiercely whispered.

She could hardly believe it, when Chapuys had told her she thought she had misheard him. How could God possibly allow that harlot to live, after all she had done…? Anne Boleyn deserved to rot in the fires of hell not to sit by Mary's father's side claiming her mother's, good sweet Queen Katherine's, title as her own.

"I am afraid so, your highness," Chapuys responded. He clearly hated speaking the words, telling her of  _that_ horrid woman's survival.

"And the child?" Mary questioned, knowing as well as anyone that if Anne had lost her child, Mary need not worry of her for much longer.

"The brat lives," Mary flinched involuntarily at the ambassador's unkind words; whether she liked it or not the babe Anne was carrying was her  _blood_  and she would never truly wish it  _any_  harm. In fact she was quite sure (if given the chance) she would grow to love her little half sibling just as she had grown to love Henry FitzRoy (or Hal as she had dubbed him during their youth) and of course Elizabeth, she would not lie to anyone about her growing affection for her sister; Bess truly was a force to be reckoned with. Yet Mary knew she would never be able to _really_  look past the fact that her siblings were an act of her father's betrayal of her mother and, in essence, Mary herself. Yes, she loved her siblings dearly but that didn't change that fact that they were illegitimate…Mary was the only heir to her father's throne and one day (hopefully soon) she was certain, that with God's help, he too would see it.

" Has my cousin… the  _Emperor_ , sent any message for me," Mary questioned, taking care to keep her tone calm, steady and quiet, so as to not alarm the young maid (no doubt sent to spy on her)who was sitting just out of earshot, of the nature of their conversation. If she were to be found talking about her cousin she had no doubt at all that Anne would convince her father to have her thrown in the tower and left a head shorter.

" He wishes you your good health as always," Chapuys replied before sighing deeply, a look of concern clearly etched upon his face, it was clear to Mary that he was thinking over his next words very carefully.

"What is it?" Mary questioned, her voice taking on a shrill edge at the thought that he was keeping something from her, "What's wrong?"

"Your highness," he said carefully and slowly, "my master does not know how much longer he will be able to offer you his support and protection…

"Ambassador, what are you saying?"

"His grace believes that if the whore succeeds in giving your father a son, that you should not hesitate in signing the oath of succession as soon as it is placed under your nose,"

"He wants me to sign away my rights? To declare myself a bastard? Tarnish my mother's good name?" Mary yelled rising to her feet, to say she was outraged would be an understatement, "How could he possibly ask that of me…after everything my mother went through, I…"

" My lady please," Chapuys pleaded knowing that it was almost certain that they were being watched, " It pains your cousin to ask this of you but he feels he no longer has a choice. He needs England's support against France and he cannot achieve that unless he aggress to accept your father's marriage to the concubine,"

Mary could not respond; what could she possibly say? No matter what had happened to her these past three years she had always been assured of her cousin's constant support, now she was being informed that she no longer had it… that the one thing that had been keeping her going was to be snatched away from her so cruelly, so unjustly. She couldn't help but ask herself where God was as her life was crumbling around her.

"May, May," the smile that was placed on her face could be called nothing but forced as Mary looked at the red haired beauty that was tugging on the skirts of her sombre black gown. If Elizabeth noticed Mary's less than happy composure it did not show on her young face.

" Bess, my sweet," Mary began kneeling at the level of her sister, all the while ignoring the shallow bob the ambassador was directing in her sisters direction, she knew he had no choice but to do it, yet it still hurt her to see her (bastard) sister getting the treatment that was rightfully hers, " why are you all alone?"

"I wanted to see you May," Elizabeth responded as if it were the most obvious thing in all the world, "I needed to ask you a question,"

Mary raised an eyebrow waiting for her sister to continue speaking, but Elizabeth only looked at her a quizzical look in her eyes while she bit her lip.

"Bess, what is it?" Mary laughed when Elizabeth still had not asked her question after a good minute or two.

"Lady Bryan told me not to," Elizabeth responded shyly looking at her feet with only a slight look of guilt on her face, "But I really must know..."

"Elizabeth," Mary prompted unable to stop herself from smiling at her sisters innocence.

"Why aren't you a princess like me?" Elizabeth blurted out unable to stop herself. She knew she was being _rather_  naughty, but she couldn't help it. When Lady Bryan had told her that under  _ **no**_  circumstances was she to ask Mary  _that_  question, Elizabeth had just wanted to ask it  _more._

"Princess Elizabeth," Lady Bryan's stern voice echoed off the now silent room, with a shake of her head the older woman took hold of the young princess' hand and all but dragged her out of the room, and away from her sister who looked to be on the verge of either tears or irrational rage, neither of which Lady Bryan was in  _any_ mood to deal with.

* * *

_**February 7** _ _**th** _ _**1536** _

_**Hampton Court** _

_**The Queen of England's apartments** _

The room was eerily silent, the only sound being made coming from the flames slowly flickering away in the grand fire place. It had been over ten minutes now, of this Anne was quiet certain, it had been  _over_ ten minutes since either of them had uttered a word to the other. They had talked of Elizabeth, Henry's leg, and again of Elizabeth before they had slipped into a state of highly uncomfortable silence.

Once, and Anne knew it was not too long ago, they had been able to talk for hours on end, no subject was off limits, no topic was to grand or to small, yet now they could hardly go a half an hour before they ran out of topics that were not likely to end in a screaming match.

"Our son is doing well," Anne said quietly, her voice sounding almost foreign to her. She had no idea if mentioning the baby was the right course of action, but it was the only thing she could think of to say…and if they had stayed sitting in silence one moment longer Anne didn't know if she would be able to stop herself from saying what she really  _wanted_  to speak of, the matter that had been driving her insane for three day now… _Jane Seymour_.

The woman was still in her service, still attending to Anne with a fake smile as if she were not one of the contributing factors to the fact that Anne had almost lost the baby. It wasn't that Anne expected Henry to banish Jane and her horrid family from court that would never happen, not while Henry was so consumed by their little game of cat and mouse. However Anne had believed that  _her husband_ , who surely knew how much it pained her to see his precious little doe, would at least have a shred of compassion in dismissing his whore from Anne's service, and allowing her to keep what little pride she still held. Of course that had not happened, and now, bedridden, Anne had no choice but to lay eyes on the little slut everyday watching as the jewels around her neck grew more extravagant with each new day.

"So Linacre has said," Henry responded breaking Anne's silent fuming; she had all but forgotten what she had only just said to him a few moments before, "You should strive to keep it that way madam,"

Anne bit her lip to stop the retort that only months ago would have flown freely from her lips, she could not allow him to see the pain he caused her each and every moment, No, she would keep her mask, her illusion of obedience and submission, she would be as cold and as lifeless as death.

"Of course husband," she said her voice soft and sweet, as if it pleased her to hear his cruel hate filled words, "I do everything in my power to keep  _your_ son safe,"

Henry bit back a laugh in response to her words,  _her_ keep his son safe, if she had of kept his son safe they wouldn't be in the terrible situation they were currently in. If  _Anne_  had not have leapt into a frenzy, if she had of kept in control of her emotions, he would be able to sleep...he would not be having visions of Anne losing their child  _ **every time**_  he closed his eyes.

Although, she had been rather pleasant these last few days, she had not lashed out at him as he expected, she had remained calm and cordial every day since her near miscarriage, it was as if she had turned into a different person, and though it was a welcome change Henry could not help but notice the spark missing from her dangerous eyes.

 _I would only be unhappy if you ever stopped loving me,_ He had hurt her, he knew that, he had done the one thing he had sworn he would never do...he had bought her unhappiness, was this the result of it? Was this empty shell Anne's way of telling him she no longer cared? Perhaps it was an effort to show him just how damaged she had become, how broken  _he_  had made her. He couldn't think like that, it was of no fault of his what had become of them, this was a good thing, Anne was finally accepting her responsibility as his wife and Queen, she was realising that her  _only_  duty in this life was to obey and serve him, and of course to fill the royal nursery with healthy son's. As a woman (Queen or not) she had no business interfering in the hearts and minds of men.

" As is your duty," Henry nodded smiling just slightly

"Henry sweetheart, I have been meaning to tell you that quiet recently I have developed a rather curious fondness of oranges," Anne said taking his hand in her own hoping he would get the hint she was trying to give him.

"I shall put in an order for the finest oranges in the country my love," Henry replied clearly having very little interest in the matter, "Now you must forgive me for leaving so early, but I have a kingdom to run, after all not all of us can sit in bed all day long," with a quick chaste kiss goodbye Henry was out of the room the sound of  _good day Lady Jane_ piercing his wife's heart like a dagger.

She wanted to kick herself for not being able to keep the tears in check, why she thought today would be any different from yesterday, or the day before that, and all the other days before that was beyond her. Her husband had been cold and distant to her since before her near miscarriage that would not simply change overnight.

"My lady, Lord Rochford is here," Madge said, then with a look at her mistresses crying form added in a hushed whisper, "I can send him away if you'd like your grace; tell him you are not well..."

"No, Madge it's...send him in," Anne said rubbing the tears away with the sleeves of her nightgown; how she wished for the day were she could once again were normal clothes.

"Dear sister," George called his face happy and content, it never ceased to amaze her...his ability to find light even in the darkest of times. He took her hand in his as he sat in the chair that was not five minutes before occupied by her husband, "How are you, and of course how fares that nuisance of a nephew of mine? I swear Anne if he is not handsome after all the pain he has put you through..."

"George stop it," Anne laughed more grateful of her brothers presence than she had been ever before, "We are both well,"

Anne didn't know what caused it, maybe it was the contact of George's hand taking hold of her own, it seemed so long ago that she had received loving human contact, and suddenly she couldn't control it, suddenly she was in her brother's arms crying pools of tears unable to stop herself.

"Anne," George said softly rubbing soothing circles on his sisters back, at that moment he wanted to find Henry Tudor and strangle him, king or not for daring to cause this pain on his little sister, "What has he done to you?"

* * *

George Boleyn was not in any way a stupid man, in fact if anyone a sked he knew he would be able to say (quiet confidently) that he was a very smart man. Yes, George Boleyn was very smart, but that didn't mean he was incapable of doing stupid things, and George was pretty sure that this, knocking on the door of a sworn enemy, would definitely be considered dumb.

" My Lord Rochford, to what do I owe this pleasure," Brandon's voice could be called nothing but sarcastic in nature, yet George was quiet positive that he noted a hint of surprise in the other man's eyes.

"I came to ask a favour of you, Your Grace," George explained cutting straight to the point. George was sitting at one of the two unoccupied seats positioned either side of the large wooden desk, before the Duke had even had the chance to offer it to him.

"A favour of me," Charles questioned raising an eyebrow, "and what may I ask could a Boleyn, the Queens own brother, want with a little Duke such as myself?"

"I need you to organise for Elizabeth to be brought to court," George said simply

"I have no control over the Princess' household or her movements," Charles said quiet surprised by the younger mans request.

"I want it to be a surprise for Anne..."

"Then go to the king," Charles reasoned

"He does not wish for her to come, he told Anne so yesterday when she asked," George explained carefully, trying to keep the impatience out of his tone.

"Why would Henry do that?" Charles questioned unable to believe the other mans words. Henry loved Elizabeth, he was her jewel, he would never throw away an opportunity to see her.

"He is using her as a bargaining tool..."

"What in God's name are you talking about Boleyn," Charles muttered then with shock he realised what the other man was saying, "You don't mean to say he is using Elizabeth as a way to make the Queen..."

"He told Anne that he would bring the Princess to court when she had a little brother to meet," George finished all but spitting the words out.

"If I brought her here against his wishes he would..."

"Have your head, I know," George said smiling widely, "Don't fret you can keep your pretty little head Your Grace, I simply ask that you try to convince the King to surprise the Queen with a visit from her daughter, tell him...tell him whatever the fuck you like, just convince him it will help his precious little prince and he will call for her immediately,"

"And tell me My Lord, why would I do this for you?"

"It's for her not me...you surely can't be that heartless that you can deny helping her, all she has left is Elizabeth," George didn't wait for an answer before he left the room, the look on the Dukes face had all but screamed yes at him.

Charles didn't know how or why it had happened but suddenly, by some miracle, he had found himself wanting to protect Anne from the harms that were slowly destroying her.

* * *

" Janey, tell us again," Jane rolled her eyes at her father's prompting, for ten days she had been telling them the kings words, yet still everyday they asked to hear it again.

" He told me that if Anne fails him he would make me his Queen," Jane responded evenly, at first it had excited her, hearing how happy they were to hear the news of the kings latest declaration of love, but now the words caused her little happiness.

She was falling for him, Jane had never known the feeling of love before, but she knew within her heart that she was falling in love with the king. It was something her family had warned her against,  _be dethatched,_ they had said,  _be cold...show him no passion,_ they had encouraged but she hadn't been able to stop it. To stop Henry King of England from worming his way into her heart. She had fallen for him, as good Queen Katherine had, as Bessie Blount and Mary Boleyn had, and as Anne had, she had now made the mistake that so many other women in England had done.

She was scared, she would admit it, Henry had taken to visiting Anne daily after the first night of her near death and miscarriage, and he had stopped complaining of the visits two days ago. She had not told this new piece of information to her father or brothers just yet, they were pleased with her and that was how it  _had_  to remain...at least until it was of absolute importance that they must know.

"He said those exact words?" Edward asked, to which Jane (as she had been for ten day's) nodded.

"To think," Thomas added a smile etched upon his handsome face, "Our little Jane Queen of England,"

" The Queen," Jane said, hating having to call Anne a Queen even in the presence of her own family, it was something that was insisted upon so that none of them would slip up and call Anne by her proper title in front of unkind ears, "has not yet lost the child,"

"It is only a matter of time Jane, it is a miracle that they have both survived this long as it is..."

"What if it's a girl?" Thomas questioned interrupting his brother little speech, "What if the child is a healthy girl?"

"That will only give the Queen time," Edward said, to his father's approving nod, "She won't truly be safe until she gives him a son."

"What if it is a boy?" Jane said, finally asking the question that had plagued her mind for weeks now.

"If it's a boy, sweet sister, you must of course open your legs for him and give him as many little bastards as your body can handle," Edward said his voice cold.

"We shall pray for a girl then," Jane said quietly, trying not to take offence at her brothers taunting.

"No Jane, "her father said seriously, "We must pray for death, hers and her little brats, for if they live we shall not."

* * *

_**February 12** _ _**th** _ _**1536** _

It had been almost two years since he had been to court, yet Henry FitzRoy, Duke of Richmond and Somerset the only son of the King of England had found that it had not changed at all. The last time he had seen his father it had been at the christening of his little half sister, truthfully he had not missed it much.

He ignored the courtiers bowing low around him more than accustomed to it by now, after all once it was thought he would be the King of England, a distant memory now that his father had met Anne especially since his stepmother had once again found herself with child.

"Hal," his father's voice boomed before he was crushed in a bear hug, bastard he may be, but that didn't mean his father didn't love him.

"Father," Hal responded clapping the older man on the back, "you look well,"

"Not as well as you my son," Henry laughed, it had been too long since he had last seen his son, far too long, "I see marriage is treating you well."

"It is," Hal replied taking a seat and the glass of wine offered to him by his father's page, " In fact you shall have a grandchild by September," he couldn't hold back a laugh at the look on his father's face...he had never seen him so happy before.

"Is that why you have come, Hal, to give me this wonderful piece of news,"

"Partly," The younger man said, "I wish to pay a visit to my sister the Princess, it has been so long since I have seen her,"

" She is your sister Hal, you do not need my permission to pay her a visit," Henry explained a curious look on his face, his son was not a stupid boy, something was definitely amiss if he had come all this way to simply ask for permission to see Elizabeth.

"I know that father," Hal retorted, before schooling his face into a more serious expression, "I would also like to see the Lady Mary,"

"Hal,"

"Father please," Hal pleaded, never losing eye contact with the man opposite him, "I know Mary has done wrong, but she is all alone just let me see her, perhaps I could talk some sense into her,"

"Oh alright," Henry answered after what felt like an age, "if you must."

"Thank-you Father,"

" Don't thank me just yet," Henry laughed interrupting his son's speech of gratitude, " Elizabeth leaves Hatfield at the end of this week...A surprise to the Queen, so if you must see your sisters you must do so soon,"

Hal nodded unable to keep his smile at bay, he had longed to see Mary for years, as children they had been as close as could be expected and when he had learnt of her mother's death he knew had to find a way to see her. His father may act like it but he was not a complete pig, he would never intentionally hurt one of his children, of this Hal was grateful.

"And Hal,"

"Yes father,"

"Make sure you visit Your Step-Mother before you leave, give her your well wishes, she is carrying the future of England in her womb after all..."


	4. Chapter 4

_**February 14** _ _**th** _ _**1536** _

_**Hampton Court** _

_**Queen of England Apartments** _

"My lady," Nan Seville's voice said, her tone full of worry, "are you quit sure you should be walking around… So soon after…"

"Nan," Anne spoke her voice calm and even, "I am  _fine_ ,"

And she was fine,  _physically_  she was fine, Dr Linacre had said so himself. Anne thought that if she had to stay lying in her bed a day, no a moment longer she would have all but smothered herself with her pillow. She was not the kind of person who liked relaxation; in fact she found the mere thought of it boring. She wanted to do something, to achieve something; she wanted to dance, to ride, to walk around the gardens and breathe in the earthy sweet smell, she wanted to hold her daughter and swing her to the high heavens, she did  **NOT**  want to sit in her bed reading and sowing all day, with her only enjoyment coming from her brother telling her the court gossip and Mark Smeaton playing soft music from her doorway.

When Linacre had told her that she would be permitted to moving around her chambers and the smaller palace gardens she could hardly believe her ears, and even though she had been disappointed when he had told her that she still was not permitted to dance, or ride, or do anything at all that would leave her in a sweat she had gladly accepted his conditions with a smile, she thought she would have done anything at all, God she would have hugged Jane Seymour, if it meant getting out of that god-forsaken bed.

"Your Majesty," Anne could not help but look impatiently at her sister in law. She had just been about to call Mark over to ask him if he would play something her ladies could dance too, anything to lighten the mood of her rooms that once had been the life of court.

"What is it Jane?" Anne questioned trying to keep her smile on her face; Jane looked as if she had run here from the other side of the castle and Anne knew that could mean nothing but bad news.

"My Lady, the Duke of Richmond is here,"

" Jane, I know," Anne said laughing, she was the Queen of England after all, bedridden or not she knew the goings on of _her_  court, " Papa told me yesterday, The king told me last night, and George informed me of it this morning, and now you…"

"No," Jane said interrupting her, "he is  _here_ "

"Oh," Anne said, suddenly feeling very conscious of her appearance; her simple blue gown flowing freely over her pregnant belly, the imperfect bun her hair was being held in, and her complete lack of jewellery. This was not the way in which a Queen was meant to be viewed, especially not by her step-son.

She hardly knew him, she had seen him maybe five times since she and Henry had married and before that it had not been necessary of her to know the boy. He was not an unkind or unreasonable person (Anne thought a trait from Bessie and not Henry), he had accepted his father's wishes without a second thought (unlike her other step-child), and for that Anne was thankful.

"Send him in," Anne requested nodding at Jane, taking a deep breath Anne stood tall, she may not look the Queen she was, but that did not mean she wouldn't act it.

"Your Majesty," Jane spoke, Henry FitzRoy on her heels, he looked a man Anne thought not the boy she had last seen three years ago, "The Duke of Richmond and Somerset,"

Out of the corner of her eyes Anne could see her ladies dropping to their knees with muttered 'Your Grace's,' She couldn't help but notice that he  _was_  the perfect blend of his parents, not unlike her own daughter, Bessie blonde hair and pale complexion with Henry's blue eyes and height. He was a handsome boy,  _a boy any mother would be proud to call her own_ , Anne pondered unconsciously rubbing a hand across her stomach.

"Your Grace," Anne said, addressing her step-son with a slight dip of her knees.

"My Lady, Step-Mother," Hal responded, bowing deeply before taking Anne's hand in his own and placing a light kiss upon it, an action which caused Anne's face to light up in a smile.

She was as beautiful as he remembered her to be, and she was a  _beautiful_ woman only a fool could deny that, but she had aged and there was no denying that either. With a husband such as his father he could hardly blame her.

She was pale, dark shadows clearly visible under her eyes; eyes Hal once remembered to think were so stunning they could suck you in with a mere glance, and despite her pregnancy she looked far too thin.

He did not particularly like her, but nor did her hate her; truthfully he had no reason to. Her actions against his sister were something he quiet detested but he knew the blame did not solely lie on her shoulders, and he felt no great loss at the death or removal of Katherine of Aragon from the throne…from the beginning Anne had been kinder to him than Queen Katherine had ever been.

"Shall we sit madam?" He questioned, noticing that she did not quiet look up to standing on her feet for extended periods of time.

Anne nodded her head, smiling gratefully at her step-sons words, for she was feeling quiet tired being on her feet for as long as she had been in twelve days.

They sat in silence for what felt like an age neither knowing what to say to the other, until Anne, feeling quiet sick of the silence, decided to break it with the only thing she could think to say, "How Is your wife, my dear cousin Mary?"

"She is well," Hal said smiling at the thought of  _his_  dear Mary, for her he would be forever thankful to Anne, for no matter how selfish the reason for the match were by the Queen and her family, he had fallen for his wife the moment he laid eyes on her, " In fact Your Grace, she is with child,"

"How far along is she," Anne questioned trying to keep her voice calm and steady. She was not a stupid woman; a birth of a male child would no doubt cause trouble for her, especially if (and god forbid the mere thought of it) she lost the child in her womb.

"Not as far as yourself, my lady," Hal responded noticing the slight edge to the Queen's voice with sympathy. He knew the strain she was under would do nothing to help his unborn sibling, the news that the king's bastard son was about to be a father would not be sitting well with her, yet she was composed enough that most would not be able to tell, " the midwives believe she will deliver in late September,"

"I shall pray for her daily," Anne replied keeping her smile (no matter how forced) firmly in place, "Is that why you have come Hal, to share this joyful news?"

"Not entirely," Hal said carefully, not knowing what to say to the Queen about his upcoming visit to his sister. She would not mind that he was seeing Elizabeth, if anything she would be thrilled to hear it, but he knew her response in regards to Mary would not be quiet the same. Would she ignore it? After everything he had heard of his Step-Mother he thought it unlikely, she would not welcome it, most likely she would think they were conspiring against her and her daughter, a thought he could not blame her on in her fragile condition, " I wish to pay a visit to the Princess Elizabeth and…"

" To Elizabeth…Oh Hal you need no permission from myself or your father for that she is your sister after all, I am sure Elizabeth would be most thrilled to see you it has been so long since your last visit,"

Hal almost cringed at the happiness in her voice that was bought on simply by the mention of his sister, with a few words he would destroy it, with a few words he knew he would send her into a state of paranoia that would not be easily reduced.

"I also wished to pay a visit to my sister the Lady Mary," Hal said quietly but firmly letting her know that yes, he knew it was not something she would like and he respected that but she would not convince him to change his mind.

"Your father has given you his permission?" Anne questioned her voice wavering only slightly at the mention of her rebellious step-daughter.

"Yes madam," Hal said his eyes downcast; he had held no desire to hurt her, it had been cruel of his father to make him do this so he would be able to avoid a fight with his wife.

Anne stood from her chair slowly and carefully her mood not evident on her face, that although happy and content only moments before had become nothing more than an emotionless mask. She said nothing as she left the main chamber and walked into what Hal could only think was her private sleeping chambers.

"I think it'd be best if you leaved Your Grace," One of her ladies spoke and Hal could do nothing more than nod his agreement.

"My lord wait," Anne all but screeched stoping Hal right at the door, in her hands she was holding a parcel wrapped in the most beautiful fabric along with a letter closed with her seal.

"Give this to Elizabeth for me  _please_ ," Anne said handing him over the delicate parcel, it was heavier than he thought it would have been, "It is a doll I had made for her next visit,"

"Of course,"

"And this," Anne said her voice shrill, as she extended the letter to him, "Give this to the Lady Mary,"

"As you wish, Majesty," Hal said hardly able to keep his surprise in check.

* * *

_**February 15** _ _**th** _ _**1536** _

_**Hatfield Palace** _

_**Residence of the Princess Elizabeth and The Lady Mary Tudor** _

The ride from Hampton to Hatfield had been long and tiresome, and Hal was in no way ashamed to say that the sight of his sister's home was one he welcomed with open arms.

"My Lord Duke," was the greeting he received from the stern face of Lady Bryan, whom he had known only briefly during his younger years, " The Princess Elizabeth shall be down momentarily," she said once risen from her respectful curtsey.

"What of the Lady Mary?" Hal questioned wondering when he would finally see his older sister.

"I cannot be certain My Lord," Lady Bryan responded carefully, and Hal found that he wanted very much to throttle her.

He was stopped from retorting her by the squeaky voice of a herald announcing his sister to the almost unoccupied room, "Her Royal Highness the Princess Elizabeth Tudor,"

She  _was_  a beauty; his baby sister was a true rose of England, he red Tudor hair cascaded in soft curls down her back, shaping her chubby face perfectly (for she still held the chubby nature of a toddler), her eyes were her mother's it could not be denied where those deep blue orbs had been inherited from, the rest of her was a mix of both of them, their fathers nose and chin, her mother's mouth and ears. She was a child any parent would be proud to call her own.

He didn't bother with formalities, choosing instead to rush to his sister and swing her around in his arms, loving the squeal of delight that was emitted from her small body by his actions. It had been far too long since he had seen her; he swore he would never go so long between visits again.

"My lord Richmond," Lady Bryan admonished her voice harsh and scolding, "that is no way to treat the heir…"

"Forgive me Lady Bryan," Hal cut in waving off her attack with a smile, "It has been almost three years since I laid eyes on this young gem," Hal said pinching the bridge of Elizabeth's nose as he did.

"Princess Elizabeth," Lady Bryan said quiet forcefully, clearly trying to recreate some form of protocol in this meeting, "Say hello to your brother…"

"My brother?" Elizabeth questioned her face a line of confusion.

"Yes Elizabeth," Hal confirmed, not expecting her to remember him.

"But Mama said I was to have a  _little_  brother," Elizabeth responded, Hal had to bite his lip to stop himself laughing at her innocence, "You're not  _little_ …"

"I'm not  _that_  brother Elizabeth," Hal explained smiling down at his little half-sister, "I was born long before your parents were married,"

"Oh," Elizabeth said her nose crinkling slightly. It was not her fault she didn't understand properly, no one ever explained anything to her, even though she was a Princess and the third most important person in all of England, "Are you Mary's brother too?" Elizabeth asked not able to help herself much to the dismay of Lady Bryan.

"Yes, Princess," Hal responded ignoring the scornful look Lady Bryan was sending his way.

"Then she should be here…" Elizabeth stated, her eyes crinkled slightly in confusion, "Lady Bryan get Lady Mary,"

Hal had to bite back a laugh at his baby sisters superior tone; a tone that reminded him greatly of their father.

"Princess Elizabeth I do not believe that your father…"

"Forgive me Lady Bryan, but my father, the King, did wish for me to see the Lady Mary," Hal cut in smiling at the old woman's worried face. Perhaps she thought he and Mary might kidnap young Elizabeth and hold her for ransom.

"Lady Bryan I want Mary," Elizabeth commended. She was quiet outraged that Lady Bryan would dare refuse her, she wasn't allowed to do that…no one was except for her mama and papa.

Casting one last worried look, Lady Bryan swept a shallow curtsey before leaving the room in search of the oldest Tudor child.

It took only moments for Lady Bryan to return, Mary, dressed in a sombre black gown, frown firmly attached on her face, in tow. It was an expression that changed almost immediately when she laid eyes on her brother.

"Hal," She screeched running into his arms, allowing him to spin her around briefly.  _She had gotten skinny_  Hal couldn't help but think  _and that gown, God,_  the Mary he  _knew_  would have been dressed head to toe in purple, or gold, or green, not in a lifeless dreary black dress, that aged her extraordinarily.

He  _had_  aged well, Mary thought pulling away from him, and she had not, what must he think of her after all these years to see how much she had changed?

The three children of King Henry Tudor sat at the small table in Elizabeth's private rooms, on the floor lay piles and piles of toys and clothes, all of which Elizabeth had insisted they play with, clearly she had worn herself out, as she was sleeping, snuggled close, in her brother arms, the doll her mother had sent to her clutched tightly in her tiny hands.

"How is father?" Mary asked, for the first time in three hours speaking of him.

"Well I think, I only saw him briefly," Hal responded, trying to choose his next words carefully, "when he is not eagerly awaiting the birth of a prince he is in the arms of a mistress,"

"Mistress?" Mary questioned shocked, her father had taken a mistress, a sign, she knew only too well, that he must be tiring of her… of that whore.

"The Lady Jane Seymour," Hal responded, his hand absentmindedly running through little Elizabeth's red curls. He thought nothing of his father's knew play thing, not while Anne was still with-child, the woman was nothing more than a whore while his Step-Mother carried her Prince.

"Is she a catholic?" Mary wondered aloud, and Hal just knew were her thoughts were taking her.

"Mary, it does not matter what religion she is, not while the Queen…"

"How dare you," Mary spat, "that woman is a whore a concubine wearing my mother's crown,"

"That woman is, whether you like it or not, carrying the future of England in her womb and if she does give Father a Prince…"

"I am over," Mary stated finishing her brothers sentence.

"Sign the oath Mary," Hal tried gently, "It is your only option,"

"I still have a few months," Mary added her voice all but pleading; she was begging him to agree with her, to give her some level of hope, no matter how small it may be.

"I have something for you," Hal said pulling out the letter that had been given to him.

"From Father?" Mary questioned hopefully taking the letter in her hands. But then seeing the unfamiliar scrawl frowned slightly.

"From our Step-Mother," Hal said his voice remaining calm, "I suggest you read it before Elizabeth departs,"

* * *

_**February 15** _ _**th** _ _**1536** _

_**Hampton Court** _

_**Queen of England's Apartments** _

"Come now Ladies, surely you can do better than that," Anne's voice called through her chambers, laughing and clapping loudly as her ladies fumbled to the tune of Marks quick playing.

Anne for the first time, in what felt an age was enjoying herself, even if she were not allowed to dance herself it was still enjoyable to have some life back in her rooms, to have some laughter and happiness once again seeping through the walls.

"You're doing it wrong Mistress Seymour," Anne taunted, immensely enjoying the fact that Jane Seymour could not dance to save her life. The girl could hardly step in time to the tune, let alone dance to it; three times she had tripped on the skirts of her dress.

Anne raised her hand to signal for Mark to stop, "Come here Mistress Seymour," she ordered her voice not unkind. The little minx made her way towards where Anne was sitting with slow tentative steps, when she stood in front of her Anne raised a delicate eyebrow. It seemed an age before Jane got the message and fell to her knees in a deep curtsey, yet her eyes never left the Queens face _. How dare she look me, her_ _ **Queen**_ _in the eyes._

"I think I know why it is that you are unable to dance Mistress Seymour," Anne stated her voice sickly sweet, "It is that great new locket around your neck weighing you down,"

"Majesty?" Jane questioned feigning confusion, she had known that parading the Kings gifts in front of Anne was not a wise move, but her family had insisted upon it,  _cause her to stress…to worry, perhaps the strain of it will kill her brat…_

" Let me see it," Anne ordered firmly, but Jane made no move to lean closer, instead she grasped the locket between her pale little hands like the mere thought of parting with it would have been the death of her, " I said let me see it," Anne whispered her voice fierce and menacing. Jane lent forward, taking a deep breath as Anne took the locket in her hands and examined it.

Anne looked at the miniature of her Husband in fury, how dare they, the both of them humiliate her in such a way!  _Un costoso puta, Katherine's_  voice came back to her as if it were yesterday, was she not in that exact same position today,  _and he will tire of you…like all the others,_ She had won that battle, she had won the crown, Henry's love, and now this blond little doe was trying to act as she had, to win a game Anne had all but invented.

"Une prostituée chère," an _expensive whore,_ she doubted Jane even understood the insult being directed at her. Smiling Anne grabbed hold of the locket tightly and pulled ripping it from Jane's neck, leaving a red blotch on the once pale white skin.

To her credit Jane made no reply or protest. Anne would have, and she had,  _I am no whore,_ In that position Anne had not been able to hold her tongue, to this day nothing had really changed. Perhaps that was why Henry was so infatuated with the seemingly un-extraordinary woman kneeling in front of her; maybe he wanted Jane because she was the complete opposite of Anne. Was it possible that Henry had grown to resent her so much that he would fall for a woman that, years ago,  _they_  would have made light of?

"Leave," finally Jane lowered her eyes standing in a way that was both graceful yet still somewhat awkward, "The mere sight of you sickens me,"

Jane curtsied slightly, before all but running from the room. Yet Anne felt no realise no amount of freedom of being realised from that blonde bitches presence, because that now free from her service, for at least a day or two, Jane would be free to be with Henry, to whisper convincing little lies into Henry's ears, her words dripped in the sweetest honey.

"Shall we resume Ladies?" Anne called, retuning her face to a calm mask, placing her delicate hands on her rounding stomach Anne breathed in a sigh of relief.  _This_  was the difference between her and Katherine, this child, her saviour,  _she would not show weakness._

"My lady," This was just not Anne's day, "My lady may I have a word with you,"

"Lady Rochford," Anne said looking at her sister in law, her voice was cordial, but not warm. There was just something about Jane Boleyn (nee Parker) that she detested, and from her brother she knew that he felt very much the same.

"I wished to talk to your majesty about your brother," Jane whispered. She shouldn't be doing this, Jane knew that, she risked everything by going to Anne, but really what choice did she have? George had to be stopped, only then could he receive salvation for his endless amount of sin, and that was all Jane wanted, for them to be somewhat happy.

"George?" Anne said her smile falling when she noticed the serious expression on Jane's face; she had not seen her brother since the previous morning, "Has something happened to him?"

"No," Jane soothed quickly not wishing to distress her sister-in law any more than need be, " He is fine your majesty it is just that…"

"Jane, what is it?" Anne questioned gently taking Janes arm in her own, "He has not hurt you has he?"

"Not physically your majesty," Jane replied her voice full of hate, and her eyes unconsciously moving to Mark Smeaton.

" Oh, I see, " Anne said her eyes following Jane's and falling on her dancing ladies, still fumbling about to Marks tune, " he has taken a mistress?" for once Anne found herself feeling some level of sympathy for Jane. She knew too well the burden of an unfaithful husband.

"I…I shouldn't but…" Jane stuttered at a loss for words.

"Jane you need not say anymore," Anne kindly said, " I shall talk to George see if he cannot be so… Well George,"

"Thank-you, Your Majesty," Jane said hopelessly aware that the Queen would never see what she was trying to tell her.

* * *

Jane Seymour did not know what to do with herself. She could not go back to the Queens rooms, not for at least two days, and when she did, oh she did not want to even think of it. She would not return to her family's rooms, they would be immensely disappointed with her, even though she had done absolutely nothing wrong. They had told her to flaunt the king's love, and she had, against her better judgement, she had worn Henry's gifts with pride and confidence, showing Anne that she could not touch her, that Henry's love was not going anywhere, and now look what had happened, Anne had humiliated her, Anne had won.

She was not even able to see the King, who was busy preparing for the Princess Elizabeth's upcoming visit later that day; he had talked of nothing but his  _little jewel_  for a week. Normally Jane would refuse to think an ill thought of any child (no matter their parentage) but these last few days she had, she had almost wished the little girl unwell. It was something she prayed forgiveness for every night.

"Mistress Seymour," Jane could be called nothing if not shocked by the voice of the Spanish ambassador addressing her… what could Chapuys possibly want with a lowly knight's daughter?

"Ambassador," Jane said politely, bowing courteously.

"I hear Mistress Seymour that you could one day be Queen," Chapuys voice was low scarcely above a whisper but Jane heard every word as if they were screamed directly into her ears.

"My lord?" Jane questioned unable to hide her shock. It was no secret that the ambassador and the emperor himself for that matter held no amount of kindness for Anne, but to speak so openly had the man completely lost his mind?

"Let it be known Mistress Seymour that you have the full support of my master and her highness the Princess Mary…."

"Ambassador please, this is treason," Jane interrupted, she could only imagine the reproductions of anyone (especially someone loyal the Boleyn's) could see her now, oh the lies they would tell the King…her name must never be tainted.

"Never fear my lady for God's will, will prevail."

* * *

_**The royal gardens of Hampton Court** _

Henry could hardly mask his excitement to any of the three men around him. It had been far too long since he had seen little Elizabeth, but then it always did feel like a lifetime in between visits, once his son was born he must make sure to arrange for them more often.

As much as it had hurt him to do, Henry had felt he had no other choice but to deny Anne's request that Elizabeth be brought to the court for the remainder of her pregnancy, at the time he had thought that the excitement of Elizabeth's presence would have been too much for his wife in her delicate state, and the state of his son must come before all other things, even his precious jewel. He would be lying if he said that procuring his sons safety had been his only motive behind refusing such a request, it had hurt Anne, it was a punishment he could deliver without the risk of a miscarriage, he had almost taken pleasure in the pain in her gorgeous eyes…but it had quickly turned to guilt knowing that he had once again hurt the woman he swore he would never let harm come to,  _I shall arrange for the Princess visit only when she has a little brother to meet,_ he saw now that he had been cruel, and he thanked God that Charles had given him a means to, in a way, apologise to Anne. Perhaps Elizabeth's presence would bring some of the life back into Anne's dreary form.

"Papa, Papa," It would take a heart of steel not to smile at that musical voice.

Henry took no notice of the lack of protocol his young daughter emitted, picking her up in his arms and swinging her around, enjoying the squeal of laughter that followed, he could hear Lady Bryans sigh of 'Princess Elizabeth' and he knew without a doubt that she had been instructing Elizabeth in all the things she must do when she was presented to her parents, but Henry preferred it this way. He liked the thought that Elizabeth saw him as her Papa and not her king, it was the way a child should be with her parents, and he prayed to God that it would stay that way.

"My Elizabeth," Henry whispered pulling his daughter close to his chest and kissing her head of red headed curls, "How are you my precious jewel?" Henry questioned beginning to walk around the small lake that was located in the gardens. No one else present made a move to follow them, it was clear to each and every one of them, that their King wanted a few moments alone with his daughter.

"I am well Papa," Elizabeth responded wrapping her chubby little arms around her father's neck.

"Did you miss me?"

" Of course Papa," Elizabeth said very seriously clearly wanting to make sure that her father understood just how much she hated being away from her parents, " And Mama as well,"

Henry just smiled down at her before placing her gently on the ground in front of a bed full of roses, "How about we pick some flowers for your Mama, hmm? Then we can go and see her,"

"Oh yes Papa, I think Mama would like that very much."

* * *

"That gown is looking lovely Your Majesty," Madge praised looking fondly on her cousin, bent in concentration over the tiny christening gown she was embroidering.

"I would hope so Madge, I have spent all week making it," Anne laughed lightly, "Do you think it worthy of a future King of England?"

"My it is worthy of the…oh my lord," Madge's choice was a mixture of shock and excitement her eyes fixed on the entrance door behind them. But before Anne had a chance to ask what the problem was, she felt a light pulling on the skirts of her lavender gown.

Looking down Anne thought she had stumbled into a dream. Elizabeth. Oh how her heart warmed at the mere sight of her. She had grown so much, and was more beautiful than Anne could ever have hoped…one day this little girl would make a great Queen.

"Elizabeth Oh my own heart," Anne said kneeling down and pulling Elizabeth into her arms tightly, she was stopped from lifting her daughter into her arms by the sound of her husband's voice.

"You must be careful sweetheart," his voice was kind, she almost fainted at the sound of it. For once in the last couple of weeks her smile was not forced when she looked at him, for the first time in what felt like decades she saw the Henry she had fallen in love with.

Sitting down Anne motioned for Elizabeth to sit in her lap, which her daughter did quite happily, placing a hand full of red roses in her mother's face.

"Oh they are beautiful Elizabeth," Anne said smiling fondly down at her young daughter, was there a more perfect being in the entire world? Anne was positive that there was not.

"Papa picked them," Elizabeth added as if it were of the upmost importance.

"Lovely flowers for my lovely wife," Henry said moving to sit across from his wife and child. He was stopped momentarily by Anne's hand grabbing onto his and kissing it lightly.

"Thank-you my love,"

Today they would be happy, Henry promised himself, today they would be as they were, for the first time in a long time Henry could detect the love he bared for Anne, it was practically emitting from his pours, it was a passion he would never feel for another being, he knew that, not even Jane, his sweet lovely Jane, could evoke such feeling from him, and for at least the next few hours he would not think of anything outside that room, it was his gift to Anne for giving him Elizabeth, once the baby was born perhaps thing would be this perfect forever.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**February 23** **rd** **1536**

_**Royal Gardens Hampton Court** _

It was the most perfect day, and near the end of winter, when everything was usually glum and miserable, Anne knew to be thankful for such an occurrence. The sky was the blue of the ocean, the flowers in the garden giving off their earthy sweet smell. Elizabeth was running in front of her chasing Madge Shelton around with grubby little hands extended in front of her body, Anne's newest puppy (Madra) trailing at her heels. The sight brought a fit of laughter from her body; her daughter would never fail to bring a smile to her face.

"She is perfect Papa," Anne sighed lovingly looking at her father with the first genuine expression of happiness he had seen from her in weeks.

Elizabeth, her red velvet dress stained brown at the bottom, was like her  _mother_ , Thomas Boleyn couldn't help but muse as he watched his young granddaughter delighting in the freedom she was being permitted.

Anne had always been more than open to a bit of rough play with George, more than once he had found his middle child crouched in a rose bush, her expensive dress ruined to a state it could not return from. Not like Mary, Mary who had been too concerned about the state of her clothes to play with her siblings,  _the way a young girl should be,_ His wife had often proclaimed, Mary would bring them their fortune, she was the pretty one after all, the more desirable…  _A true English Rose,_ Anne, Elizabeth would say, would be lucky to marry a knight. Oh how the times had changed, if only his wife could see them now, Mary cooped away in the country disgracing her family every moment she breathed, And Anne, the  _other_  Boleyn girl, the Queen of England. If their current situation was not so dire, if they had not been hanging on by a thread, Thomas would have found it amusing.

"Perhaps if she were a boy," Thomas sarcastically bit out.

Anne refused to answer her father's taunts, she would not allow him to ruin this day, Elizabeth  _was_  perfect, boy or not, one day she would make a great ruler, one day she would preside over Empires, whether of her own accord or as a consort she would be flawless, Anne could feel it in her bones. Sex was not Elizabeth's barrier… it was her strength.

"I hear the king was hunting yesterday?" his daughters failure to rise to his taunts was frustrating him immensely, months ago she would have, months ago she would have defended her daughter with passion and fire, she was weak now, her loss of the kings love had left her vulnerable and open to assault, and that was something Thomas Boleyn could not tolerate. He had not raised weak children; she had not been born to surrender to lesser beings. And the Seymour's were lesser beings, yet she continued to allow them to mock her and by extension his family, the Boleyn legacy would not be one of failure, of that he would make certain.

"Yes, Papa," Anne replied as if it was not of the least importance.

"With the Seymour's?" Boleyn barked unable to keep his temper in check.

"I believe so," Anne answered, refusing to let her emotions show; she would not give her father that satisfaction. She would not allow him to see how much Henry's relationship with that slut was affecting her; after all it was her father that had told her to accept Henry's affairs with a smile.

"Does it not bother you that everything is slipping away," Her father's voice was like gravel, hard and harsh. Anne knew all too well that if she had not been pregnant he would have struck her, tried to force her into complacency, "everything we faught so hard to create…"

_**Everything I created, everything I built,**_ "Papa, you're being overdramatic, I am carrying the Kings son, no one can harm us…"

"Look at your daughter Anne," Boleyn growled as if Anne had not even spoken, " Look at the perfect little smile on that perfect little face….One wrong step from you and it will disappear, Jane Seymour will certainly not care to keep it in place."

* * *

"We have failed," The words were spoken in a mere whisper, yet the feeling of distress could not go unrecognised, "The concubine continues to live and we cannot kill her now."

"Fear not Master Brereton all is not lost," Chapuys soothed, but he too could not hide his distress as he looked at the scene taking place in the garden. The whore and her brat behaving as if they were any mother and daughter in the land, and even he could not deny that pregnancy was beginning to suit Anne, whose dark mahogany gown was shaping her pregnant bump perfectly, and whose skin had finally returned to its original complexion, meaning that she no longer resembled a corpse.

"She cannot be killed," Brereton repeated, his voice more than a little deflated "not in her condition, and if she gives the king a son...then Master Chapuys all  _ **is**_  lost."

"Perhaps not Master Brereton, perhaps not," Chapuys responded, while he would not deny that things did seem somewhat dim, he knew within in his heart that Gods will would prevail, and God's will was clear. The Harlot must die, "She can always be killed after she has delivered her bastard."

"Yes, and then even in death she would still win," Brereton responded, his eyes firmly cast on Anne's pregnant belly. A son would make her immortal, "Her bastard would be our future king and a heretic rule would be forever in place,"

Chapuys could not help but sigh at this, how God could allow such a predicament to occur was beyond his comprehension. The Harlots child was innocent; its death could not be condoned, could it? One life lost for the benefit of thousands of others, was this the message God wanted him to understand, that sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good?

"A child bleeds red like the rest of us Master Brereton," He didn't need to say anything else. The expression on his companions face was enough to show his understanding of the words being directed at him, his eyes never left the sight outside the window:

The pregnant Queen laughing and smiling, as she watched her young daughter, a hand protectively placed upon her womb, she didn't know that a great number of evils would soon fall upon her,  _it must be kept that way,_ Brereton thought,  _she must stay in the dark, until the time comes…to kill her…and her bastard.  
_

* * *

**March 6** **th** **1536**

_**The Queen of England's Apartments** _

"Nan," Anne called from her windowsill, the needle in her hand, stopping its movements mid stich, "I don't think I shall be taking a walk this morning,"

"My Lady?" Nan questioned quizzically, it was not like her mistress to turn down a stroll in the gardens especially not now, when the little Princess was at the palace, morning walks had become a sort of mini ritual in Anne's household these past few weeks, it was most unlike the Queen to turn down the opportunity to escape the confinements of her rooms.

"Not today, Nan, it is too cold," Anne sighed, looking at the dark clouds in the sky with despair, she could not risk it, what if she were to catch something from the chill air and pass it on to the baby, oh she would never forgive herself,  _better to be safe than sorry,_ her mother would often say and now in the position she was in, Anne finally understood the wisdom behind her mother's words.

"As you wish majesty," Nan said, bending her head slightly, "perhaps a game of cards my lady?" Nan suggested wanting to bring a smile to her Queens face.

"I would like that very much Nan," Anne smiled, taking her oldest confidants hand into her own much smaller one, Nan was shocked at how cold it felt, like ice against her own much warmer hands.

"Shall I get Mistress Holland to get you a hot drink?"

"No, Nan I am alright…"

"A coat then Madam?" Anne had to laugh at the tone of Nan's voice it never ceased to amaze her, the woman's boldness, how she dared reprimand her Queen as if she were a naughty child without the fear of a reproach.

"Oh alright then, but get Mistress Seymour to get it, Bess is busy," Anne replied her tone care free even with the mention of her rival's name.

"Mistress Seymour, My lady has not come in today, it seems she is sick," Nan said gently, her tone clearly disapproving of the king's latest fling.

"Sick?" Anne questioned standing from her seat and walking towards her window, "Is that my husband's new name?" Anne couldn't help but laugh, and laugh loudly at her own words, did they really think her that stupid, that mindless that she wouldn't know what her husband and his whore were up to, and it was so very stupid of….

"Nan," Anne cried in alarm, the sight of her hand on her pregnant belly enough to bring Nan next to her in a flash, " Henry, get me the king,"

"Your majesty should I fetch the doctor?" Nan questioned her voice on the edge of hysteria… what was happening.

" No, just the king….hurry," Nan set off at a run as soon as the words had left her mouth, Madge Shelton immediately taking her place at Anne's side, directing the Queen to her large oak bed, more than a little bit surprised by the expression upon her cousins face.

* * *

Nan had never moved so fast in all her life, she hadn't any idea where the king could possibly be, but she had to find him, even if she did look like a madwoman whilst doing so.

It took no more than twenty minutes, the sight of a bowing crowd directing her to them; the King, the Duke of Suffolk, and as she had suspected Jane Seymour. She made no bow or even a bob of acknowledgment, the words simply poured out of her mouth when she was in front of him.

"It's the queen…the baby, my lord…" She hoped with everything that she had that he understood her erratic misplaced words.

The king's face immediately went from care-free to absolute terror in the space of only a couple of seconds as the words of the panting woman in front of him registered in his mind. Anne, the baby, were they in trouble?

"Charles, come with me," Henry called taking off at a run, the words  _just in case_  hanging in the air dangerously.

Nan soon followed suit, but not before placing a firm glare at Jane Seymour, who had been left by herself without a word of acknowledgment. The expression on the woman's face unreadable, but Nan could just tell, just by the sight of her eyes that she was not praying for the well-being of either her Queen, or the child in her womb.

* * *

Henry bounded into the room at a sprint (Charles and Nan close at his heels), he took no notice of the bowing ladies around him, nor did he see the somewhat sly expressions on their faces, his eyes were for his wife only. She didn't look overly troubled, sitting on her bed, a hand rested firmly on her stomach.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" He questioned frantically, moving to her side, but making no move to sit on the bed, he didn't not want to risk doing anything that would harm her or the baby.

"Everything's alright," Anne soothed laughing lightly, "come" She ordered taking his hand in her own, and pulling her husband on the bed so that he was sitting close to her. She pulled his hand over her stomach watching with glee as his face lit up in a smile, the biggest she had ever seen.

"Can you feel it?" Anne questioned, "He's moving, he's kicking"

"I can feel it," Henry replied nodding, as he paced his head over the large bump of Anne's stomach, at this moment they could have been the only two people on earth, and he would be more than happy for this was perfection, "oh he feels strong….my son be strong. "

As he kissed her stomach Anne could not help the tears that formed in her eyes, it had been so long, too long, since they had been this intimate with each other, how she had missed it, Henry's touch, his eyes looking at her as if she were the only being in the world. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, his head on her stomach, as her hand creased gently through his hair, all she knew was that it ended far too quickly for her liking.

"You had me worried Anne," Henry reprimanded, moving away from her. His voice was void of the warmth that had been present only moments before, and Anne could not help but wonder what could possibly have happened that could change his persona in such a short space of time.

"Forgive me darling," Anne tried sweetly she wanted that moment back, she wanted her husband in her arms, "I did not want you to miss such a moment."

"Anne, I do not want you to call for me like that again," Henry said his voice firm, and his eyes hard, Anne could feel the tears forming in her eyes but she would not let them fall, "Do you understand?"

He would want her to simply nod her head in compliance, to act as if his words were beautifully spoken and the kindest form of praise she had ever heard, but she would not yield, her heart may be breaking with every word that he spoke, but she would not yield to his will.

" As your majesty commands," Anne bit out, her voice verging on sardonic, and her dark eyes glaring furiously at her husband as he began to walk away, no doubt in a huff.

It took only mere moments after Henry's departure for her to break, deep heart wrenching sobs emitting from Anne's body and she hated herself for it, because she knew that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she refused to comply, no matter how well she played the ice Queen, Henry would always win, because she needed him, like a heart needs a beat, yet that wasn't what was slowly tearing her apart, no, it was the fact that he no longer needed her that was killing her.

" Your Majesty," Anne looked up startled, she had not noticed he was still in the room, Charles Brandon was after all nothing better than her husband's little dog, and so she had rightfully expected him to have left her chamber with her husband, not standing in front of her with a confused expression upon his face.

"Your Grace, "Anne mumbled, trying to hold back a sob as tears continued to cascade down her porcelain face.

Charles did not think he had seen a more miserable sight in all his years, and he could not help the sympathy that was filling his body, that had been consuming him for weeks now, whenever he thought of or looked at Anne Boleyn. Her tear streaked face and giant pregnant belly when mixed with Henry's cruelness were enough to melt even the hardest hearts, as Charles was discovering more and more each day.

"Your Majesty…Anne are you alright?" The sound of her name brought a look of shock upon her face, and if the situation had not been so serious he would have found it rather amusing.

It seemed like a lifetime before she responded to him; he thought that perhaps he had offended her to a state of muteness, he had no doubt that his question had been far too intrusive and his use of her name was highly unheard of, even for a man of his status. He was about to apologize when she opened her mouth sighing deeply, a number of tears cascading down her face.

"He hates me," She whispered brokenly, the words for his ears only.

With but one look at Madge Shelton, Charles successfully had the room cleared in a number of seconds, the few ladies that had been stationed in there having enough sense to leave the Duke and Queen in peace.

"He actually hates me," Anne continued her face empty of all emotion now, her tears dried up, but her dark eyes remained just slightly glossed over, " it does not matter that I am carrying his child…his son, he no longer wants or cares for me…I have lost."

He didn't know why or how it occurred, but the voice of his late wife overcame him as Anne spoke, the same level of hurt and pain that Mary had once directed at him,  _" you love... for a time,"_  had their relationship not mirrored this one? Had they not once loved so passionately and lost it just as quickly? He had done to Mary what Henry was doing to Anne, and the thought made his skin crawl, how he wished he could turn back time, if only to tell Mary how much she actually did mean to him, even if he may not have always shown her the kindness she deserved as both his wife and the mother of his children.

It was with the thought of Mary that Charles spoke his next words, "He still loves you," Charles whispered, trying to convey a level of conviction in his tone.

"Your Grace is kind... too kind, Henry is far too infatuated with his whore and his hope of a son, to care for me," Anne whispered back, her voice still choked with tears.

"Henry once gave the world for you, that amount of affection does not just disappear," Charles reasoned, "He loves you still...I know it,"

"For my sake Your Grace I hope you're right,"

* * *

**March 12** **th** **1536**

_**Hampton Court** _

Jane Seymour was beyond furious, she did not even believe that the word ropable could cover the heated emotions that she had been feeling for the past week; a week of terror filled anticipation, a week of questioning from her family, and a week of being ignored by the man who claimed to love her above all others, even his "wife".

And now, when Henry had finally contacted her, had finally sent word to Edward that he wished to see her, he did not bother to show up, instead leaving her in the unused chamber alone, with only her brother and his heated gaze as if it were somehow her fault that the King was choosing to be difficult.

"Jane," Edwards's voice echoed off the empty chamber, it was the first word that had been spoken by either of them for last half an hour, "what have you done?"

"  _ **I**_  have done nothing brother," Jane responded her voice icy, giving away none of the emotions she was feeling.

"Clearly that is not true," Edward huffed under his breath, as if it was only he that was being affected by Henry's ignorance, and she did not care at all.

" Edward I have been nothing but a pleasing, obedient, mindless fool for months….at your request I might add, do not blame me if he has grown tired of the compliancy you instructed me to show." Jane whispered furiously, weary of Boleyn ears that could be positioned anywhere, straining to hear one slip up from her tongue.

" Janey,"

"No Edward stop it," Jane demanded her voice growing louder with every word, "nothing was done, no evil was committed, if there had been do you really think he would have called for me today?" Jane did not know who she was trying to convince more herself or Edward;  **nothing**   _had_ happened, Henry was simply busy he was a King after all. Yet still, he had managed to visit both the Queen and the Princess daily, a matter of public show, Jane was assured, he was merely keeping up appearances especially considering the delicate position the Queen found herself in.

Edward's, retort most likely sarcastic was cut off by the sound of footfalls outside the chamber door, which was open within a matter of seconds, Henry jovially walking through it, as both Seymour's dropped to their knees.

"Jane sweetheart, "Henry's voice boomed through the chamber, as he lifted Jane from her knees without even acknowledging the presence of her brother in the room.

"Your Majesty," Jane whispered, refusing to make eye contact with the man in front of her. Such an action would not be looked at kindly by the members of her family, Henry had insisted that she be informal with him at all times, that she use his name and look at him directly, through this, albeit small, defiance Jane hoped she could convey some of the anger she was feeling, in the hope that he would believe he had hurt her, it was a risk she thought necessary.

" Oh Jane, " Henry said delicately rubbing a finger across her face, and Jane knew that her risk had paid off, " Forgive me for being so rude this past week, you know that if given the choice I would have gladly been in your arms every second of it."

"You are sure Your Majesty?" Janes questioned sneaking a look at Henrys face through her lashes.

"As sure as I have ever been in all my life," Henry responded and Jane smiled widely, before placing a chaste kiss upon his lips.

"Then Your Majesty is forgiven," Jane laughed, a sound that Henry echoed within moments taking her in a slight embrace.

"Jane," Henry said carefully breaking the embrace far too quickly for Janes liking.

"Yes, Henry?"

"I wish for you to meet someone," Henry's voice was careful, but the smile on his face told Jane that he was excited about whoever it was she was being presented to.

Jane could just imagine the look on her brother's face perfectly, and she knew that they were thinking the same thing. Who was it, the Henry desired her to meet, the Spanish ambassador or The French? Crammer? Cromwell? Perhaps even Henry Fitzroy, who for the time being was at court?

"Whatever pleases Your Majesty," Jane responded placing her own small hand in the Kings.

Henry nodded at the groom standing at the entrance way, who in turn opened it, allowing the entrance of an older woman dress sombrely in a plain black gown, it took a while for Jane to see that the woman was holding the hand of a toddler, adorned in a beautiful white gown that went perfectly with her curly red locks, and pale complexion. Jane knew it took her far too long to drop into a respectful curtsey, far deeper than what she wished to give to a child she thought of as a bastard. The slightly annoyed expression emitting from Elizabeth's eyes (the exact shade and shape of her mother's) told her that the young girl had noticed Jane's hesitation.

"Jane," Henry spoke his eyes moving from his daughter to his mistress, "This is my daughter the princess Elizabeth, the greatest jewel in all of England."

"It is an honor to meet you Princess," Jane said coaxing her voice to sound as if it were dipped in sugar and honey as she smiled at the toddler.

For her part Elizabeth remained mostly stoic, smiling only slightly, out of what Jane believed was nothing more than what she had been instructed to do. Jane could hardly blame her really, they did not know each other and Elizabeth most likely wanted to be with her mother or playing with the dolls in her chambers, not meeting the daughter of a common knight.

"Will you not say hello to the Lady Jane Elizabeth," Henry tried walking over to his young daughter and swinging her around in his arms as he so often did to get a laugh out of her.

"Hello Lady Jane," Elizabeth squealed as her father started tickling her, and even Jane could not stop the smile that came over her face, the young girl (bastard as she may be) was a sight to behold.

"Jane I am sorry to do this to you but I promised Elizabeth we would pay a visit to the Queen, she is anxious to feel the baby kick, aren't you my sweet?" Henry explained, but Jane could tell that she was no longer in any way at the centre of his thoughts. No Henry was consumed by his love for Anne Boleyn's bastard and through the child Anne herself.

"Oh yes Papa and we have to get her flowers too," Elizabeth said clearly delighted by her father proposal.

"Well than we best be going," Henry stated as if it were of paramount importance, he left the room with no more than, "goodbye Lady Jane," which Elizabeth copied only moments afterward.

Once again Jane was left alone in a state of fury, and she did not dare to take a glance at her brother's face. As well as feeling anxious Jane was confused, why would Henry conduct such a meeting? Introduce her to the heir of the throne if he did not wish to elevate her? Yet if this was true, than we would he leave such a meeting so quickly to return to the side of his wife? This game, Jane mused, the battle for the crown of England was a slippery and dangerous one, and Jane knew that in time she would either win or lose.

* * *

Both her husband and daughter would be arriving shortly, Anne had been informed of this fact not quiet fifteen minutes ago, and Anne, as a woman could not help but worry about the state she was in. Her figure was ruined, a big fat bump protruding from her stomach making ever dress she wore seem like it was hiding something. She could not remember ever feeling so huge with Elizabeth, a sign she firmly believed of a male heir in her womb. She was also feeling terribly ill; the baby had been kicking like crazy all afternoon, leaving her exhausted and out of breath.

It was another five minutes of waiting before Anne realised something was wrong, her stomach no longer felt as if it were being assaulted by mere kicks but rather cramps, and painful ones at that.

"Madge," Anne called her voice holding a slight level of hysteria, before she felt it, a feeling she had not felt for three years, "Argh! Madge the baby,"

"My lady what is it?" Madge called, frantically rushing to her mistress's side.

"It's coming,"

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you begin reading I just want to clear up a few things:
> 
> First off, in a previous chapter I had George refer to Anne as his 'little sister' when he was supposed to say 'dear sister' as Anne for this story is the middle Boleyn child. With the dates of their births being:
> 
> Mary- 1501
> 
> Anne- 1509 (for the purpose of this story)
> 
> George- 1512 (once again for the purpose of this story)
> 
> Secondly, as I said at the start of the story, Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor (Brandon) in this story (as they did in history) had three children, with his second wife Catherine Brandon, he had two children (only one of which is born at the present time). However as Both his son with Mary (who in history had died by now, but who remains alive for the time being) and his elder son with Catherine were named Henry I have decided that the child with Mary will be called Edward as he was in the show. Also I know that Charles in his two marriages before Mary Tudor had children, as in the show these marriages and hence any children born from them and any illegitimate children (of which he had three) do not exist.
> 
> Now I hope that wasn't too confusing, on with the story.

 

 **March 12** **th** **1536**

_**Hampton Court** _

To say Henry Tudor, King of England, Ireland and France was alarmed by the sight the met him as he approach his wife's chambers would be a vast understatement. The simple  _inadequate_  word did no justice to the level of terror that was seeping from his body at the sight of Linacre and team of midwives bustling about the privy chamber. He received no acknowledgment of his arrival, not one single curtsey or nod of the head, in another circumstance the obvious snub would have left him mortified especially considering it had been done in front of his daughter. Yet in the current situation, with Anne and the baby's health being so fragile he could not bring himself to care, all he wanted was answers.

Was she in labour?

Was she miscarrying?

Was it something else entirely?

Poison?

Sickness?

A fall?

"Papa," Elizabeth squeaked from next to him, a worried look etched upon her face, and the roses they had picked for Anne clutched tightly to her chest, "Is mama sick?"

The sound of Elizabeth's voice had all but echoed off the room, sending its inhabitants into silence as they realised that both the King and heir to the throne had arrived completely unnoticed.

"Your Majesty," Linacre called, quickly making his way towards the pair with a shallow bow, "forgive me, I had not…"

"What is going on?" Henry interrupted through clenched teeth.

"A false alarm Your Grace, nothing more," Linacre soothed wanting to placate his Kings anger as much as possible before he entered the Queens bedchamber.

Without another word Henry picked little Elizabeth up and stalked angrily into Anne's rooms, why had no one come to him? Why had he not been informed? Was he not the King of England? Was it not his wife, his child? Was it not his right to know the goings on of his own palace and family?

"Henry," Anne called clearly surprised at his arrival, "Oh and you bought my darling Elizabeth with you."

"Anne, what has happened?" Henry questioned trying to keep his tone even for the sake of their daughter in his arms.

"A false alarm my love…" Anne said tiredly, clearly not noticing the look on her husband's face as she kept speaking, " Dr Linacre ensures me that it is nothing to be concerned about…apparently it happens quiet often."

"Lady Sheldon," Henry demanded looking away from his wife as if he could not stomach the sight of her, "take the Princess into her nursery, I..."

"But Papa," Elizabeth protested as Madge lifted her gently into her arms.

"You'll be back in no time," Henry reassured her, his tone firm but not unkind. He simply wanted a few moments with Anne alone, so that he could properly chastise her without their daughters little ears present.

"Is something the matter my sweet?" Anne huffed clearly a little more than put out by Elizabeth's quick departure.

"Anne correct me if I'm wrong, but did you not believe yourself to be in labour this night?" Henry bit out his words deliberate and slow, as he completely ignored his wife's questioning.

"Well Yes, I…"

" Then why in God's name was I not informed immediately," His voice was a fierce whisper, yet still it felt as if it were echoing off the walls.

"I…"

"Well?" Henry interrupted again; he was in no mood to hear her pathetic excuses, "Is it not  _ **my**_ fucking child? Are you not  _ **my**_  wife? What possible reason is there for you not to call for me immediately?" Henry was struggling to keep his voice from yelling, how could a woman as smart as Anne possibly be so very stupid.

"Forgive me husband but I seem to remember you commanding me to never call for you in such a way again," Anne replied coldly, her eyes glaring daggers in his direction. He found that he very much wanted to throttle her.

She was saved from the scathing retort on his lips by Linacre's entrance.

"Have you something to tell us Doctor?" Henry gruffly questioned, making it quite plain to the doctor that his interruption was not welcome and so better be of the upmost importance.

"I merely wished to inform your majesties, of the strict protocol that must now be followed by the Queen to ensure a safe delivery." Linacre said carefully wanting to deliver his news as quickly as possible.

"I thought you said it was a normal occurrence?" Anne questioned clearly confused and worried as her hand sought her stomach in an act of comfort.

"It is my lady, but your pregnancy is hardly a  _normal_  one," Linacre explained, and when the King nodded for him to continue speaking he did so, "You will remember me informing your graces that her majesty may not deliver to full term? Well this is now an absolute certainty, and so I believe it to be imperative that her majesty begin her lying in immediately."

"Immediately?" Anne implored, "The baby is not due until early July surely…"

"My Lady we would be lucky if you carry this child  _past May,"_  Linacre explained gently not wishing to cause further distress to the Queen.

Anne's reply was cut off by the King's voice, "We will of course take every measure you suggest to ensure our son's safety," Henry's voice left nothing to the imagination, he no longer wished to hear his wife's voice and so Anne remained silent beside him, "I will send Elizabeth in, Good day to you Dr Linacre England thanks you whole heartedly for your efforts." He made no mention of his wife as he left the room, not a simple farewell or good wishes.

Yet Anne found that it was something she was more than used to, and besides her little boys health was plaguing her mind a lot more than her husband's unkindness ever could.

* * *

 **20** **th** **March 1536**

_**Hatfield Palace** _

_**Residence of the Lady Mary and Princess Elizabeth** _

Mary stared furiously at the fire burning softly in front of her, a crumpled letter lying delicately on her lap. She had considered throwing said letter into the fire more than once since her brother had thrust into her hands. She had yet to read a word of it. Yet now she felt as if she had no choice, the Queen was due to deliver her child in a matter of months, possibly earlier, and was showing every sign of a delivering a living child. Mary had thought she would have lost the babe by now, and thus had put off reading Anne's letter, thinking that the words would mean very little to her if Anne's throne was being given to another.

Opening the seal with shaking hands Mary sighed loudly as she pulled the contents out of its envelope. The letter she knew would be nothing special, nothing different to what she had already heard,  _accept me as Queen and I will reconcile you with your father,_ it was a line she had heard many times in the past, yet it was only now that Mary was beginning to think that submission may be her only option.

 _Mary,_ the later started simply, such informality she had not been expecting. Taking a deep breath she continued reading:

_Mary,_

_I hope that you are reading this letter in good health, for I know that quiet recently you have been very unwell, but I trust that the physicians your father sent for you did their job well._

_I would like to firstly offer you my condolences for the loss of your mother, a surprise to you I am sure, seeing as how the two of us had never, for the lack of a better word, got on, but I too lost my mother at a young age, and I know the hard toll it takes on ones heart to lose a parent. It is a pain no child should have to feel the burden of, yet it would seem that we are all destined to do so. Despite all our differences the one thing I always respected about Katherine was her unwavering love for you, a love I have only recently understood and felt for myself after birthing Elizabeth._

_I do not write this letter to you to once again offer you reconciliation with your father if you accept me as your Queen and stepmother, although that offer as always still stands._

_I wished only to offer you my apologies for the part I have played in your miseries over the past ten years. I will not lie to you and claim that the fault lays entirely on my shoulders, it was your father's wishes and not my own that you be bastardised and serve in Elizabeth's household, yet perhaps my part was more important, for I may not have wielded the sword but I stood idly by and watched it swing. I never gave voice to, or any objection about your father's mistreatment of you, and god-help me in some circumstances I encouraged it. It is something I now regret must seriously and I beg your forgiveness, knowing that I don't truly deserve it._

_This is no trick, I am not saying this all to you in the hope that you will submit to your fathers will, for he doesn't know that I am writing to you, let alone what such a letter is about. I do not hold any hope or fantasy's that you will somehow begin to see me as a Queen and mother, I could never usurp your mothers position in your heart and nor would I ever wish to._

_If I birth a living male child, your father will not hesitate in asking you to sign the oath, and it is here that I beg you to do so for your own safety, for I cannot truly help you unless you do._

_You should be married with children by now, Mary this is something I do not say to hurt you, but legitimate or not your blood is royalty and you deserve the respect that deserves. If it is within my power to do so I will strive to find you a suitable husband, and hopefully, if you consent to the oath, we can one day be friends, if nothing more._

_Finally I will end by asking something of you that I have no right to do, but that I fear I must do anyway._

_You will no doubt have heard that your father has taken fancy to another woman, her name is Jane Seymour, and I have no illusions that you will not see my pain over you fathers love for another as justice. If I birth either a dead or female child, I will not be Queen for long and I know without a doubt that your father will cast me aside, kill me if he must to make way for the Lady Jane, her family is catholic and no doubt are supporters of you and your late mother. She will not look kindly upon Elizabeth, and I must ask that you do. If I am not in the position to do so I beg you to look after your sister look past her resemblance to me and love and protect her as I should have done to you._

_I do not expect a reply, however I would more than welcome one whenever you feel comfortable doing so, my offer of friendship will not falter of that I promise you._

_Anne Boleyn._

Mary could hardly help the tears that were forming in her eyes, the mention of her mother's love and her father's unkindness had been difficult to bear. This was not the letter she had in anyway been expecting and nor was it in anyway a representation of the woman she had thought Anne to be. Yet despite the woman's assurances and her kindness, Mary found it more than difficult to trust, she could not simply be expected to change all of her notions of the woman based on the contents of  _one_  letter, and who knew how much of said letter was in fact a falsehood.

She still found it hard to believe that her banishment and bastard status were the decisions of her father alone, she had once been the pearl of his world, surely he wouldn't want to hurt her, surely he had been led to do so, but this Mary knew was what she hoped for, she didn't want to believe her father would want to be unkind to her, but this was the King of England and her father was not a man to be told what to do, especially by a woman.

If Anne delivered a son, she would have to sign the oath, by either force or will; she knew within her heart that she would have no choice. If she did so by force she doubted her father would ever look kindly upon her again, a damage that perhaps even Anne's offer of friendship would not be able to fix. But if she signed it  _willingly_ , if she gave her consent without a word of protest that surely even God would forgive given the situation she found herself in, than Anne had promised her happiness, a husband… a chance to be a mother. Even if she didn't believe in the oath, even if she felt her mother turning in her grave just by the thought of her calling Anne and her bastards royalty, surely her mother, God rest her soul, would have wished for her to be reconciled with her father, and surely the Pope and God would understand that she needed to preserve her life if there was any chance of her returning England to God if she were ever given the chance….however slim that possibility might be.

She would sign the oath, God forgive her…her mother forgive her, she would sign it, if and only if Anne birthed a male child. If not then she knew she would need not sign her rights away for surely if Anne's baby was stillborn or female, her father would see the truth, would realise that God had condemned his union with Anne for her mother was still his rightful Queen and Wife and Mary herself his only heir, if he did not see it than perhaps this Jane Seymour would.

* * *

 **March 26** **th** **1536**

_**Hampton Court** _

_**His Grace, The Duke of Suffolk's Room** _

Charles could hardly supress his grin as he all but bounded into his privy chambers knowing all too well the sight that would meet him. The four faces he was met with, he had not seen for what felt an age.

Catherine, of course his beautiful wife was there holding in her arms his youngest child, Little Henry Brandon, hardly a year old and growing more and more every time Charles laid eyes upon him. The little boy had his mother's appearance and was a stark contrast to the two others standing beside him.

Eleanor his youngest daughter was, at the age of sixteen, a woman now, and was (as she constantly reminded him in her letters) due to be married the following year. She was the blend of the both himself and Mary, not like Frances who was all him, and Edward who was Mary in miniature. Speaking of Edward the boy (who was ten now) was clutching onto his stepmothers hand as if his life depended upon it, he was a precious child, as Catherine, (and Mary before her) had more than once informed him, just looking at the boy brought a pang of guilt to his heart, he was his mother's son in more than looks and Charles had thought more than once that these facts were God's way of punishing him for his cruelness to his late wife.

Frances was not present but then he hadn't expected her to be, his eldest child was now nineteen and had been married for three years, and as such he had spoken to her only through letters as she had been settling into married life, her last letter had informed him of her latest pregnancy, the last of which had resulted in a healthy little boy who had died just before his second birthday, and Frances had regretfully informed him that she would not be seeing him at court until after she had delivered her child.

Placing a gentle kiss on Catherine's mouth, Charles took little Henry into his arms and swung him around, delighting in the little boy's gleeful little laugh. It had been far too long since he had seen his children, after the birth of the Queen's child he would ask the King to allow him a couple of months rest in Suffolk to spend time with his family.

"Edward," Charles said seriously, wanting to do nothing more but laugh as his eldest son, bowed solemnly at his words.

"My Lord Father," The boy said gravely his voice wavering slightly, and Charles knew the boy had been practising the proper protocol he was to follow so that he could please his father.

Wanting to ease the boy's nerves Charles ruffled his hair, more than happy when his son smiled in delight at the contact.

Eleanor did not wait to be addressed before she dropped into an informal curtsey, "father," falling effortlessly off her lips before she smiled widely at him. Taking her head into his hands he kissed her lightly upon her forehead, laughing loudly at the look on her face which quiet clearly said that she was too old for such affections.

"Eleanor, you grow more beautiful every day I see you, young master Clifford is very lucky indeed."

His daughter blushed under his praise and he once again felt that familiar pang of guilt at his heart knowing that since her mother's death he had payed her very little attention. It wasn't that he didn't love his children by Mary, he did with all his heart, but being so close to them after her death had pained him and so he had tried to distance himself from the three of them, choosing instead to focus on his young new bride and take long absences at court. He would make it up to them, of that he was positive, but for now he wished to be  _reacquainted_  with his wife, he was a man after all and a man had certain  _needs._

"Eleanor, darling would you mind taking your brothers' for a walk around the palace, while your step-mother and I  _talk,"_  The look on his daughters face told him in no uncertain terms that she knew her parents would be doing a lot more than  _talking_ , " the Princess Elizabeth is also expecting a visit from the three of you at noon." At this Edward smiled widely, it was no secret that he adored his little cousin, but the frown on Eleanor's face did not go unnoticed by her father. Charles knew that Eleanor loved her little cousin as much as her brother, but his daughters were undeniably close with their elder cousin and Mary's downgraded status along with Anne's coronation had not sat well with either his two daughters nor their mother.

Choosing to ignore this for the time being Charles shooed his three children out of the room, before dismissing his grooms with a wave of his hand.

"Catherine," he said seductively pulling his young wife into a heated embrace, "I have missed you,"

"And I you," Catherine whispered back, laughing as her husband bit playfully at her neck, "although I had hoped to be seeing you under better circumstances…"

"Whatever do you mean?" Charles questioned pulling away from her. He himself could hardly think of better circumstances. All was well as far as he was concerned.

"I had hoped to be summoned for a wedding not the birth of a bastard," Catherine said her tone playful, but Charles knew her words to be true, "but I don't want to think of such unpleasant events now…."

Charles couldn't explain it, he couldn't even  _understand_  it, but for some reason those few hours in his wife's embrace were not in any way what he was accustomed to. His wife's flesh, once so sweet and warm to him seemed nothing but bitter and cold, making him think that this was not the woman who had entranced him with her beauty and kind heart, no she was something else entirely.

* * *

_**The Queen of England's Apartments** _

"Mama,"

"Yes my darling," Anne said smiling down at her young daughter, who was looking at her swelled stomach with a mixture of wonderment and anger.

"I don't  _like_  the baby," Elizabeth said bravely, not caring at all that it was a  _wicked_  thing to say.

" _ **Elizabeth,**_ " Anne scolded gently, she had been expecting this, however she had thought she still had a couple of months, thinking that Elizabeth's jealousy would set in after the baby was born, " That's not a nice thing to say,"

Elizabeth had the good grace to look  _somewhat_  ashamed, but the pout on her plump lips told Anne that she had a battle on her hands. The girl was after all a Boleyn  _and_ a Tudor.

"Elizabeth, I know how you're feeling,"

"You do?" Elizabeth questioned in awe, "how?"

"Because I felt the same way when my Mama was carrying uncle George," Anne explained gently, "I thought my parents would love him more than me, because he was a boy and because he was all new and hadn't done anything naughty to make them upset or angry as I had once or twice," At this Anne couldn't help but smile at one particular memory her mother had liked to remind her of during her youth.  _I found you in George's room late one night, what you couldn't have been more than three, but there you were a great big pillow clutched in your hands as you tried to climb into his crib, and I believe you were trying to smother him with it….boy oh boy did you get a scolding that night Annie._ "But do you know what Elizabeth; you don't have any need to worry."

"I don't?" Elizabeth repeated her blue eyes uncertain.

" Of course you don't, " Anne soothed, taking one of her daughters red curls into her hand and twirling it around her fingers in what she hoped was a soothing motion, " Your father and I love you more than anything, nothing is ever going to change that, not your brother's birth or anything else,"

"Not even if I am naughty?"

"Nope, not if you're the most naughtiest girl in all the world,"

"Not even if the baby's a  _boy_ ,"

"Not, even if the baby is a boy," Anne confirmed nodding solemnly, "I would not trade you for a thousand boys my sweet."

"You Promise?" Elizabeth demanded taking her mother's face into her chubby little hands.

"On my  _life_ ,"

"And  _Papa_  as well?" Elizabeth added quickly.

" Of course Papa as well, you are  _his jewel_ ," Anne replied with a slight frown, perhaps Henry's constant talk of needing a son, had led Elizabeth to think that she was not  _important enough_ , "why do you ask?"

"Because of  _Mary_ ," Elizabeth said quietly, she was not supposed to speak of her sister in front of her Mama, Lady Bryan said so.

" _The Lady Mary_?" Anne asked more than confused.

Elizabeth nodded her little head, looking at Anne with fear in her eyes, "Didn't Papa love her once as well?" Anne was shocked by the question. To start with Mary was not a topic Elizabeth had ever raised with any of her parents, and secondly she did not like to think that Elizabeth thought her father didn't love his own child, as if his love were something fickle and not in any way permanent.

" And he  _still does_  Elizabeth," Anne said seriously wanting Elizabeth to understand everything she was saying, " Your father has not stopped loving your sister simply because they are  _fighting,_ besides Mary is very different to you Elizabeth, trust me your Papa will  _never_  stop loving you. "

"Ok," Elizabeth said curling into her mother's warm embrace, but, as Anne soon noticed the young toddler was still sending furious looks at her mother's stomach.

"Elizabeth  _what is it?_ "

"I still don't like him."

"And why not?" Anne said, quite shocked, surely she had not been  _this difficult_  with George's birth.

"Because he hurts you, he  _kicks_ you and he makes you  _sick_ ," Elizabeth said angrily, crossing her arms over her chest as she spoke.

"Oh my darling," Anne responded, trying not to laugh at her daughter innocence, "he is not hurting me, I promise."

"On your heart?"

"On my heart,"

"Well then I suppose  _I can like him a bit_."

And Anne couldn't help herself, she didn't care who heard her or what anyone thought, she broke into a fit of giggles, which left her breathless. Elizabeth truly was a little gem; no one else in this world was quite like her beautiful daughter.

* * *

 **March 28** **th** **1536**

_**Hampton Court** _

_**The Rooms of George and Jane Boleyn** _

"Jane will you not come to bed?" George questioned his voice exhausted and annoyed. He had been at this  _for hours_ , and would have much rather been with Mark, enjoying sweet wine and even sweeter love-making, instead of here in his rooms trying to make his wife consent to  _one night_  of sex.

His father had been on his back of late, questioning why it was that both Anne and Mary had given him grandchildren, yet George his  _sole heir_  was yet to inform him of one  _single pregnancy_ , let alone a male heir.

"I will not," Jane replied firmly, placing a cloak upon her bony shoulders (for she had lost weight recently), "I refuse to share your bed while you continue to live in  _sin_ ,"

At this George simply rolled his eyes more than accustomed to her little speech, "It is your duty as  _my wife_  to give me heirs and I must tell you sweet Jane that you are not  _playing your role very well_ ," George admonished, fleeing a little guilty as her eyes filled with fear, no doubt thanks to their first night together…he would never force himself upon her again of that he was certain, but being kind to the wretched witch was too much for even him to handle.

He felt no level of remorse as she stormed from their rooms, no doubt making her way into Anne's apartments to stay there for the night as she had done for the past week. If anything he was happy with her departure, it meant he could (discreetly of course) call for Mark. He would try again with Jane tomorrow perhaps if he lied to his wife… if he told her that Mark was no longer in his bed, she would consent to a one night together. Hopefully she was fertile enough to conceive, and then he could send her off to the countryside, while he buried himself deeper into his endless sin.


	7. Chapter 7

She heard the crowds before she saw them,  _Oh how many had come_ , it seemed almost fitting that there be so many  _now._ At her coronation the streets had been all but deserted the only sound coming from that of the Royal parade, yet now…now the roars of the crowd were almost deafening and there was scarcely room to breathe.

Most of the noise was indistinguishable, a lot of muffled screams blurring together to form an almost empty sound that Anne couldn't quite describe. She could hear the occasional calls of 'whore' and 'witch', only few people wished her well ('God save your Majesty'). She took no notice of them, she wouldn't…no she couldn't allow herself to get caught up in the theatre of it all. She had to stay firm and strong, so that when they told Elizabeth of  _it_ , her daughter would be able to hear that her mother died a  _Queen_ in every way known to mankind.

She did not falter or cower as she walked the long path to the scaffold as so many others had before her, she approached her death with grace and dignity, and when Anne opened her mouth to speak the crowd fell silent immediately, and Anne thought, closing her eyes briefly, that she could have been back there on that glorious June day, glowing with her pregnancy and thinking that the whole world was at her fingertips.

"Good Christian people, I have come her to die according to the law and thus yield myself to the will of the king….my lord," Anne breathed deeply as her husband's image came to her mind, oh how she loved him, now still more than ever. They had shared a love so passionate that others could only dream of such emotion _, Jane Seymour_ , she thought bitterly, would have to prey to every God she could think of to be blessed with  _half_  of the love Henry once gave her.

' _I would only be unhappy if you ever stopped loving me,'_ Henry's reply to her declaration almost made her want to laugh, ' _London would have to melt into the Thames first,'_ was London not still standing? Anne thought sarcastically, she saw no flames.

"And if ever in my life I did offend the Kings grace, then surely with my death I do now atone," Anne continued her voice not once depicting her true feelings, how dare  _he_  accuse her of such atrocities! Had she not found him only months before with that  _harlot_ on his knee? A sight she was convinced that had  _ **killed**_  her son, her boy _, her last chance._

She could feel the tears threatening to assault as she thought of her baby boy that had not had the chance to live, the child that was to create the golden world she had envisioned hers and Henrys union would bring. Her thoughts filtered from her lost son, to her beautiful daughter, Oh she would not trade Elizabeth for a thousand sons, and when the time came when Jane's weak pale boys surrounded  _her_  Elizabeth, Henry would see the mistake he had made, and she just knew it would haunt him till his last breath.

"I pray and beseech you all to pray for the life of the king, my sovereign lord and yours, who is one of the best princes on the face of the earth, and who has always treated me so well…."

_He will tire of you like all the others_

_By God's grace boys will follow_

_You must shut your eyes and endure….like your betters have done before you_

_She is a bastard, and you are not my wife_

_You've lost my boy_

"Wherefore I submit myself to death with a good will, humbly asking pardon of all the world," not from  _him,_  Anne thought bitterly, never again would she submit to Henry, it was only the Lady Mary she truly sought pardon from, for  _no one else_  truly deserved it.

"If anyone should take up my case, I ask them only to judge it kindly…." Slowly Anne motioned for her three ladies to come forth, all of whom were crying, she tried to catch their eyes as they helped remove her coat and jewellery, hoping that with a small smile she would be able to both relieve some of their grief and thank them for their kindness and devotion to her during her imprisonment.

The executioner knelt before her then, asking for her forgiveness and Anne could not help but feel touched by the kind display. She spoke one last time to the crowd, and it was now that the faces began to clear. She could see Archbishop Crammer, his face tear streaked and mournful, she could see her dear Thomas barley holding himself upright through his grief, and for some reason the Duke of Suffolk , instead of rejoicing in her demise, looked forlorn, little Edward was with him and the child's innocent tear filled eyes all but broke her heart.

"Thus I take my leave of the world and of you….and I heartily desire you all to pray for me," she knelt then, the last movement her body would ever make, the last act of submission to a husband that no longer wanted her, and finally Anne let the sorrow into her body, She would never see Elizabeth again, nor feel the warmth of Henry's touch.

"O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul, to Jesus Christ I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul," Anne had no idea how many times she repeated her prayer all she knew was that when she felt the executioners hand upon her head moving a strand of her off her face she was not expecting it, nor was she expecting the sight of the people bowing down before her. In her death it seemed she had finally made them love her.

" To Jesus Christ I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul," The words no longer held much meaning to her, it was a mere distraction now, but it was one done in vain, she could not help but glancing at the executioner, his sword was nowhere in sight.

"Boy fetch my sword," The shout made her look away, searching in vain for the boy he had called for, and for a moment her eyes once again found Edward Brandon's but it was not his face she saw, it was  _her_ face….Elizabeth, it was with her daughters image in her mind that Anne looked up at the flock of birds ascending into the sky, she neither felt nor heard the swinging of the sword.

* * *

"Elizabeth," Anne's voice shouted shrill and terrified, her eyes searching in the darkness for any source of light or life… it was a dream….she had to be dreaming, and yet she couldn't help but think, the feelings, the memories all of it had felt so real to her, she could recall every moment perfectly, the feel of that sword sending shivers down the spine of her already shaking body.

She was not dead, Anne reminded herself firmly, her son lived…her son…. "Argh…Oh God, No, not now not now….it's too early," Anne shouted hysterically as her bed filled with the sticky wet substance that let her know with absolute certainty that she was both alive and about to experience the most pain filled moments of her life….childbirth, there was no doubting it this time, her last chance was finally here.

* * *

**_Midnight, 18th of May 1536_ **

**_Hampton Court_ **

The court was alight; word of Anne's labour had spread like wildfire until every Duke to kitchen hand knew that the birth of England's heir was mere hours away. However the sight in the Kings' privy chamber was a stark contrast to the excitement raging throughout the walls of the royal palace.

When Madge Sheldon had barged into his room as he had been preparing himself for bed Henry had very much wanted to throttle her, and yet when the sweet words had spilled from her lips Henry had found himself embracing her tightly and demanding the presence of Anne's father, uncle and brother as well as the Duke of Suffolk immediately. That had been over five hours ago now, it was almost  _one in the morning_ , Henry thought bitterly, wondering how five short hours could seem to last a life time.

Madge had been giving him updates of Anne's progress every hour as he had instructed her to do, yet she was still yet to give him the news he had been long awaiting, and Henry was beginning to wonder if perhaps the labour was not traveling as smoothly as his former mistress was suggesting, and really had he been expecting anything else? The pregnancy had never been a smooth one and it should have come as no shock to him if things took a turn for the worse. Yet, he was surprised; perhaps he had never fully understood the seriousness of the situation, it was almost two months before Anne was due, and though he had knew for almost two months that this was going to occur, he hadn't truly prepared himself for the fact that the baby may not make it through unscathed if alive at all….that Anne may not make it through unscathed. In one night he could possibly lose the child he had waited ten years for, and the wife he once ripped apart a country to simply be with.

"Your Majesty….Henry," Charles' voice broke him out of his thoughts, they were halfway through a game of chess, neither man was playing for sport or competition, both of them moving the pieces around the board without a thought of tactic, Henry had never been more grateful of the man in front of him than he was now.

While Anne's male relatives had been rambling on about names, jousts and balls, confidently expressing Anne's strength and their confidence of a male heir in her belly, Charles had suggested a game of chess, taking Henry to a quiet corner of his chambers, if a conversation amounted between the two it would be of completely unimportant matters, although the man had firmly reprimanded Henry only two hours before, when his King had made the mistake of wondering aloud if he should call for Jane to occupy him while he waited. Charles had pointedly reminded Henry that if he were to do such a thing he would not only be taking Jane away from her post of helping Anne deliver his son, but also letting Anne know that while she were bringing their child into the world he was with  _another_ woman.

"I could lose them  _both_  Charles," Henry whispered, his voice chocking slightly, and Charles was for the first time in what felt like years reminded of the love, the fiery passion, that had once existed between the royal couple.

Charles didn't respond immediately, he honestly didn't know  _how_  to respond, what could he possibly say to put the man before him at ease, when he himself had never been in such a situation. Both Mary and Catherine had, had easy deliveries and although he knew what it was to lose a child, he and Mary having lost their oldest boy when he was just seven years of age, he couldn't comprehend how hard it must be for Henry who had lost countless children, and now faced the possibility of losing both child and wife, not merely his Queen and heir.

"The Queen is a living miracle," Charles said gently but firmly, "she is stronger than most women Henry,"

_A living miracle,_ Henry rolled the words around in his mind; it was not the first time such words had been used to describe Anne, Linacre had used them not four months before when Anne had managed to hold onto their child, but even before that Anne had been subjected to such a title, had she not survived the sweating sickness when everyone had been ready to bury her? She had been all but dead and yet she had survived that, surely….surely she could survive this as well.

"I pray to God you are right Charles, for it is in his hands now…"

* * *

**_Queen of England's Apartments_ **

The sounds coming from the Queen's apartments, the ear splitting screams, were more than enough to turn Jane Seymour off the thought of childbirth for an eternity. She thanked God that she had been all but thrown out of Anne's private sleeping chamber, for she held no desire to see the  _miracle of life_ any time in the near future.

She was,  _of course_ , not allowed to leave Anne's rooms, the look Nan Saville had given her when she had suggested the thought, had all but burnt her to a crisp. Instead Nan had given her the simple and most mundane task imaginable, she was to prepare the clothes that both the Queen and the babe were to be dressed in once this whole ordeal was over with.

Anne had requested that she be clad in purple and gold and the child in pure white, Jane had almost (openly) rolled her eyes at the request, only Anne could find reason to be vain in such a situation, it seemed to Jane that she cared more for what her and the child were to wear than their own survival.

Jane could not think of the babe as a male, she just could not bring herself to, in fact she  _had_  gone against her better judgement and prayed for a still birth or female child, but surely even God could not condemn her for such an action. Anne had caused death and pain for so many, it did not seem right to Jane that she could get away with such atrocities, God could not possibly want the harlot to bear a male child, a child which would bring England into the fires of hell for eternity. No, God wanted her to stay strong and unwavering, it was imperative that she pray for Anne's failure, the loss of one child, was nothing compared to what would occur if Anne gave the King a living son, England would be doomed if such an event were to occur, and although Jane did not want to admit it, she too would be doomed if Anne was to make good on her long awaited promise.

What would Henry possibly want with  _her_  if Anne delivered him a healthy heir, she would never be his Queen or his wife then, she would have no choice but to give into him, to become a common whore, whose children (if she were to have any) would be nothing more than bastards…the  _Kings bastards_  perhaps, possible Dukes and Duchess', but illegitimate ones at that…. they would never be seen as anything else.

Another hair raising scream tore through the two rooms, and Jane noticed Dr Linacre, who was not permitting himself entrance into the Queens bedchamber (for that was the  _business of woman_ ) unless it was absolutely necessary, make his way over to the entrance of the bedchamber, where he spoke for some moments to a young midwife, before nodding his head seriously, and calling over Made Sheldon for what Jane felt was the thousandth time. Surely very little had changed since Madge's last update to the King, trust Anne, Jane thought bitterly, to turn an everyday experience into a  _commotion._

* * *

_**19th of May 1536** _

_**Bedchamber of Anne Queen of England** _

Anne had never been more thankful of Nan and her sister in law, than she was right at this moment, they were the only two of her ladies present in the too packed room, each of them on either side of her, and making no protest as she gripped their hands hard enough to leave bruises, as the pains of her labour started coming faster and faster.

She had been in labour for what felt like years. The bed sheets had been changed no less than four times, and Anne had screamed and cried so much that her voice was now no more than an empty hoarse. The pain had not been nearly this bad with Elizabeth, whose birth had been an  _easy stroll_  compared to the pain that was now cursing through her body each time she felt a contraction.

The head midwife, Mistress Nobly was, despite her plump physique and kind heart shaped face a strict no nonsense sort of a woman who seemed to have no trouble at all in telling Anne off as if she were some simpleton school girl.

Anne had called for Mary more than once in the past few hours, wanting her sisters comforting voice whispering in her ear more than anything else in the entire world, and when Anne realised that the possibility of that happening were near impossible, she had started demanding George's presence. To her credit Nan  _had_  run to the bedchamber door with her instructions, only to then be most severely told off by the older midwife for her insolence.

" It's almost time now Your Majesty," Mistress Nobly said her voice remaining stoic and calm, not letting any of her nerves show, to the screaming woman in front of her.

In her time as a midwife Catherine Nobly had birthed near one hundred babes, and she had seen more of them die than she had seen live to the end of their first week of life. The position she found herself in now was a stark contrast to any she had found herself in before, she was a common woman who dealt with other common women, it had never been her duty or her wish to deliver little princes or princess' into the world, for she had no care for the politics of royal births, in her most humble opinion a living daughter was most certainly better than a dead son. Yet her time serving Queen Anne over the last four months, had eventuated in her growing very fond of the younger woman, and so she had found herself breaking her own rules and praying for a son, not for the  _King_ , not for  _England_ , but for Anne, whose charm and wit, whose obvious love for her young daughter and unborn child, could warm even the hardest of hearts.

"You've said that _three_  times," Anne snapped her voice hoarse and her tiredness getting the better of her.

Jane bit her lip to stop herself laughing at her sister in laws childish antics, deciding that it was probably not the most appropriate time to be teasing Anne, who looked as if she was one more push away from either collapsing in exhaustion or ripping poor Mistress Nobly's head off from the rest of her body.

" Come now Anne, you are doing so well just a little while longer," Jane soothed using her free hand to wipe a drop of sweat from Anne's brow in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

"I hate this," Anne whined, as another sharp pain assaulted her body, but unlike the other times the pain did not subside, "and I hate  _Henry,"_ Anne continued to grumble, trying to keep her mind off of her pain by talking through it, "and I hate you," She added looking at Mistress Nobly, who for her part remained as stoic and even tempered as ever.

" _Madam_ , you will not hate anything or anyone when you have this little boy cradled in your arms," Mistress Nobly said firmly, but Anne could hint just the tiniest amount of amusement in her tone, "Now I need you to push for I can see the head, and what a fine crown of black hair he has,"

"You can see the head?" Anne questioned, all of her anger leaving her body as she realised how close she actually was to seeing her little baby.

"You can do this Your Majesty, "Nan comforted rubbing soothing circles on Anne's hand with her thumb, "Just a little longer,"

Anne could faintly hear the clock strike nine from the other room, she had been in labour  _thirteen hours_ , such a short time that had seemed to her only moments before to be days, Anne gave an almighty scream as she pushed again, all of the woman in the room surrounding her with bated breath, this was  _it,_  the moment of  _truth._

Dead or alive, Son or daughter, this was the moment the future of Anne, the future of England, was decided.

" Just a few more My lady," Mistress Nobly encouraged as Anne's body contracted over and over, bringing the baby further into the world each time she pushed, " One last push, Your Majesty, one more. "

_One more chance, one more_

Anne's stomach contracted as she gave one last almighty push, bringing the baby into the waiting arms of the midwife. Anne could hear the older woman delivering a stinging slap, and the high pitched wailing, that came directly afterwards.

_A healthy pair of lungs,_ Anne thought pushing herself up on her pillows with what little strength she had left, to try and catch a glimpse of her child, she saw them cut the umbilical cord and quickly wrap the babe up in a warm woollen blanket before it was settled down in the midwifes arms.

Catherine had seen perhaps three infants smaller than the one now in her arms, but as she examined signs for deformities she found none, the babe had ten perfectly formed fingers and ten perfectly formed toes, and considering the circumstance of its birth, it was far more healthy and strong then what she had been expecting.

"What is it?' Anne questioned, ignoring Nan and Jane telling her to lie back down on her bed. After Elizabeth's birth no one had wanted to tell her the baby's sex and Anne was worried that no mention of the child's sex had been made for that very reason, "Tell me what it is," Anne demanded her voice rising into an almost hysterical pitch.

Not wanting to cause the Queen any additional harm than had already been experienced, Mistress Nobly approached the Queen's bedside the now clean infant resting in the crook of her arm, " Your Majesty has given birth to a very healthy baby boy," the woman exclaimed, a large smile lighting up her face, and every other in the room immediately as each of the ladies dropped into deep curtseys.

"A boy?" Anne repeated as if she could scarcely believe her ears, she had done it, she had fulfilled her duty, she had her son, and she could hardly believe it was true. For ten years she had imagined the fantasy of it, the birth of her baby boy, and not  _ **one**_ of her fantasies had lived up to the happiness that was currently cursing through her system.

"Yes Your Majesty, a Prince of Wales for England,"

" And he's  _healthy_?" Anne added, her eyes searching over the bundle that was her son, in the other woman's arms… he looked small.

"As healthy as any babe I have laid eyes on, perhaps he is a little small but that is nothing a few months of his mother's milk will not fix," the midwife soothed.

"Give him to me," Anne ordered her voice sounding as strong as it had in hours, "I want to hold my son."

"Your Majesty," Mistress Nobly said hesitantly making no move to hand over the screaming prince to his clearly exhausted mother, "are you sure you are strong enough, I don't…"

"Give me my son now!"

Clearly not wanting to argue with the Queen a moment longer, the older woman motioned towards Nan and Jane to begin making the Queen as comfortable as possible; before she gently placed the still wailing infant into his mother's eagerly awaiting arms.

The second he was placed in her arms Anne felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, this child, this little miracle was her saviour, and nothing and no one would ever take him from her.

Blue met blue as Anne gazed into the face of her son; he was Henry through and through except for those eyes, which like Elizabeth's were the exact shade and shape of her own, he was all she had promised….. _a son the living image of his father._

"He is beautiful Anne," Jane said from next to her, smiling down at her little nephew, who under his mother's touch had ceased crying.

"Yes, and the image of the King too," Nan added, trying and failing to discreetly wipe a tear from her eye.

"He's perfect," Anne murmured kissing the tiny mop of black hair, before breaking down in tears herslef. She was so scared that she was going to wake up, that this was somehow all a dream and she would wake up, on the scaffold, her baby boy dead and her husband ready to marry another.

But that was the dream, Anne reminded herself firmly, taking no notice of the conversation around her, as she stared intently at her cooing son, looking at her with bright eyes before reaching a tiny hand out towards her check,  _this_  was real,  _he_  was real.

* * *

**_The rooms of Henry King of England_ **

Henry had not heard Cromwell enter his rooms, Madge Sheldon close on his heels, having fallen asleep some two hours before, it took a sharp kick to the shins from Charles for him to startle awake, the four other's occupying the room looking as if they were holding their breaths, clearly waiting desperately for the news the two newcomers brought.

"Well," Henry bit out, wanting them to bring their news, good or bad as quickly as possible.

Was it finally time?

Had Anne finally delivered?

Had something happened?

"Her Majesty has delivered, of a healthy son," Cromwell said smiling slightly, as the King stood from his chair in shock.

A healthy son, he had a healthy son, he had his heir.

"I have a son?" Henry questioned softly, small tears filling his eyes, both Cromwell and Madge nodded in response, "I have a son,"

"Yes Your Majesty, you have a son," Cromwell repeated.

Henry turned to the men around him, Charles' smiling form, and Anne's family members looking as if they had delivered the baby themselves.

She had done it, Anne had done all she promised to do, she had gave him the son he had been waiting a lifetime for, the legitimate heir she had sworn to deliver, and suddenly it once again all seemed worth it, just as it had when she had told him she was pregnant the first time. God had blessed their union with a miracle…. "The future King of England,"

"Charles," Henry called motioning his oldest friend towards him, "Have the bells rung at once, and see to it that the people are given free food and wine throughout the kingdom, " this was after all the peoples celebration as well, it was  _their_  future king.

"Yes Your Majesty," Charles said bowing, he hesitated momentarily before leaving, stoping right at the door, "Henry,"

"Yes Charles,"

"Congratulations," Henry nodded in thanks towards the other man as he left the room.

" Cromwell, I want every ambassador to know of this miracle, and George see to it that the Princess Elizabeth is made ready for a visit in a few hours' time," Henry ordered, " I shall see the Queen and the Prince now,"

_He had a son._

* * *

Anne had let go of the baby only once since he had been placed in her arms, but her eyes had never left his perfect face. Her ladies had helped her wash, and dress herself in a nightgown of gold thread with a purple overcoat placed on top to keep her warm. Nan had braided her hair delicately tying it up with a purple ribbon, as she had watched her little boy dressed in one of the white garments she had made for him. After both Queen and Prince were dressed, the soiled bed sheets were changed into clean ones, and both mother and son were propped up on the pillows ready for visitors.

When Henry entered Anne's chambers, he took no notice of the ladies around him, he did not even send a well wish towards Jane, whom he noticed smiling hopefully up at him, all of his attention had to be on Anne and their son, he could think of nothing else.

He found them dazing lovingly at each other, Anne's little finger firmly clasped in the baby hand. It took a little while for her to notice he had entered, but when she did a bright smile formed on her face, and it was as if it were ten years ago, when he had first laid eyes upon her, her beauty captivating his very soul like no other had before.

" Henry," She said softly, her voice sounding croaky and tired, " would you like to meet your son?" she teased, and Henry laughed jovially, making his way over to her and placing himself on the side of her large bed.

He made no move to touch the baby at first, too scared to disturb him, too scared that he would wake up and find that it was all a dream. Instead he chose to lean over Anne curiously, and just admire his son from afar, but that all changed when the baby looked at him with Anne's beautiful blue eyes, making Henry feel as if he had no choice but to lean a hand down and rub the side of his son's tiny head.

When the child didn't disappear at his touch, Henry smiled broadly, never wanting the moment to end. "He's a sight to behold," Henry mused not really talking to anyone in particular.

"He is Your Majesty," Mistress Nobly said from her seat near the slowly flickering fire place, at the other end of the bedchamber, "and very strong, as well, just look at that grip. "

"May I hold him sweetheart?" Henry questioned, he didn't want to disturb either Anne or the baby in anyway, but he felt a desperate need to hold the little boy in his arms.

Anne nodded, before reluctantly handing the baby into his father's waiting arms, before trying to stifle a yawn.

"You're tired darling," Henry stated, kissing the baby's head softly, as he looked down at his exhausted wife.

"You try bringing a baby into the world for thirteen hours and see how you fare," Anne quipped with an easy smile, and Henry could do nothing but laugh at the truth in her words.

Knowing that Anne would object to the prospect of a little rest, Henry decided to lie down in the bed next to her, giving her back the baby, and wrapping his arms around her in a loving embrace.

"What shall we name him my love," Henry questioned, they had not really discussed baby names since before Elizabeth's birth, "I know we had thought of Edward or Henry,"

"I don't like Edward," Anne stated firmly, and Henry smiled down at her, it was an unlucky name for Kings anyway.

"How about Henry?" He questioned, the boy did look remarkably like him, the resemblance was almost uncanny, but Anne scrunched up her nose at that idea as well.

" You're Henry," Anne explained, " He should have his own name," but really Anne knew deep down that, that was not the true reason for her dislike of the name for her new son. She had been set on Henry  _before_ , now it just did not seem right, as much as she loved her husband, at that moment she had no desire to name her precious little boy after the man that had hurt her so much.

" I don't see you offering any suggestions Anne," Henry teased, going through a list of names in his head, Arthur was strictly out of the question, perhaps Anne would want to name him Thomas of George, Charles was a fine strong name, as was Edmund and….

"William," Anne said finally, "he should be William."

Looking down at his young son, Henry could find no objection with the name.

Prince William

Williams Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwell

Little Prince Will

King William the Third

It fit him well.

"William it is my love, "Henry agreed, and the baby cooed slightly as he spoke.

"Our Prince William, "Anne said kissing the baby's head for what she was sure was the hundredth time that hour.

" I can never thank-you enough for this Anne," Henry said, brushing a hand over his wife's delicate neck  _your neck, I love your neck,_ before pulling her face into his and kissing her passionately.

All was well. Everything was as it should be.

* * *

**_Seymour Apartments_ **

He had not even looked at her; he had walked straight past her and right into the embrace of that wench and her brat. He had not looked at her.

Jane would never be Queen now, her brothers had already instructed her in what she must do next, she was to become his mistress, his every thought and every breathe, because surely his returned affection for Anne would not last long, a son may have granted her the crown until the day she died, but it did not guarantee her the kings love.

Jane had lost.

Anne had won and she had lost, how had God allowed such a travesty to occur?

How could Anne continue to live and be happy, when sweet Queen Katherine had died alone and in poverty because of Anne's actions?

How could Anne's children bare the right to call themselves Prince and Princess, when Princess Mary, the Kings rightful and only heir, was made a basted, forced to serve as her illegitimate half-sister's maid?

How could she, who played the exact same game as Anne, receive such a different outcome, why was it that Jane would be forced to endure the slippery world of a Kings mistress (if he were to have her at all that was) while Anne was able to wear the Queen's crown? A crown that should have been hers….not that whores.

When Henry had first offered to serve her, Jane had not envisioned it to turn out like this; she had envisioned greatness, a marriage and a prince. She had pictured Anne's failure not her success, yet here she was, defeated and alone.

Yet the King did still care for her, of that much she knew for certain, perhaps all would not be lost if she managed to keep Henry's fickle love in her grasp, if she had his love than he was hers, it would be her that he spent his time with, her that he consulted with and listened to, not Anne, she would be a powerful force, her family rising above even the Boleyn's, it would be her favour everyone would want. No, all was not lost.

Anne may have the King's son, but Jane,  _Jane had the Kings love._

* * *

**_Queen of England's rooms_ **

When Elizabeth came to visit her, Anne was all but asleep, Henry had reluctantly left a little over a half an hour beforehand when William had fallen asleep in her arms. He had jousts to organise and letters to write, but he assured her that he would be back soon, and asked if she would like him to send Elizabeth in during his absence. Never one to want to miss time with her darling little girl, Anne had been more than eager to agree.

" You may leave us Lady Bryan," Anne said tiredly, once the governess had left, Elizabeth all but ran unto her mother's bed, asking so many questions Anne could not decipher one of them. "Elizabeth darling slow down,"

"Where's my baby brother Mama?" Elizabeth asked looking around curiously, when she did not see him immediately, she resorted to looking under the covers, it was nice and warm under them, and maybe her baby brother was down there.

" Elizabeth, my sweet," Anne said laughing, to which Elizabeth looked at her with a stern look, " Your baby brother is here," Anne explained motioning to the crib, standing next to her bed.

"He's asleep," Elizabeth said sounding disappointed, as she stood up on the bed and looked down at her little brother with a scrunched up face, " And he's really small,"

"That's because he's all new my darling," Anne explained contently looking at her two children; she did not think there was a more perfect sight in the entire world.

"I thought he was going to play with me…" Elizabeth said crossly, and Anne couldn't help but laugh lightly, her little girl never ceased to amuse her.

"He will," Anne said gently, "when he's a little older,"

"Oh," Elizabeth replied, lying back down on the bed and snuggling into her mother's chest, "Mama?"

"Yes darling?"

"What's his name? Lady Bryan wouldn't tell me," Elizabeth asked clearly quite cross that she had been refused such a vital piece of information, even though she had asked Lady Bryan  _ **ten**_  times, and each time the  _mean old governess_  had said she would have to wait and see.

"William," Anne said, loving the name more and more each time she said it.

"William," Elizabeth said rolling the name off her tongue, "I like that."

"I am glad my darling," Anne responded.

She liked it to.

Elizabeth and William, she had birthed the future of the Tudor Dynasty, the birth of a golden age.

* * *

**_London_ **

"To Prince William," Gerard Blackwell's voice bellowed, the strong husky sound drowning out every other murmur in the too crowded tavern.

"Aye," called the voice of the tavern's owner, Mister Robert Harding, whose family had owned the small space for some fifty-one years, "long live the Prince,"

Robert's father had brought the tavern a mere day after the coronation of the late King Henry, and it was justly named the Tudor Rose for that very reason. Over its existence the tavern had become a place of order and regularity, a place for the common people to meet and converse, to gossip about the goings on of the town, their work, and of course the news from court.

Robert had grown accustomed to it all, he prided himself on knowing every man's face and life story that entered his place, for a cool drink after a long day's work, and yet today he found himself unable to recognise half of the faces, packed into the tavern.

it was packed so full, that there was hardly room for the patrons to breathe yet alone move, every chair, stool and table was full, every corner of the room was occupied, and Robert knew he was about a half an hour away from announcing that the ale was gone…a concept that could very much start a brawl in such a crowd.

The talk off every man's lips was the same; Queen Anne had given birth to a healthy little Prince, that the royal couple had dubbed William, the long awaited heir to the English throne had finally been borne, and that was why Robert knew that not one man would leave his tavern in search for another anytime soon, because every place throughout the country would be much the same, with every man woman and child relishing in the delight of the birth of the future King.

Almost every man, woman and child, Robert thought, his mind thinking of the poor Lady Mary, and her supporters, who would no doubt be cursing Queen Anne and her little Prince.

And while Robert did feel sorry for the young lass, he did not think it his place to speak of such matters, King Henry had been a just and kind ruler, just as his father had been, and despite the unpopularity of the Queen, her little Prince would be welcomed by the people with open arms, for they just as much as the King had been waiting for this day with baited breath.

"To Prince William and Princess Elizabeth," The sound of one patron called.

"To King Henry," Cried another.

Robert did not know what made him do it, but suddenly it was as if his mouth had a mind of its own, "To Queen Anne," The response he received was deafening, every man, who had once labelled the Queen, the 'King's Concubine and whore', where screaming her name in love, praying for her good health, and the birth of many more little heirs.

* * *

_**30** _ _**th** _ _**of May 1536** _

_**Hatfield House** _

_**The Residence of the Princess Elizabeth and The Lady Mary Tudor** _

Mary refused to pray in the small chapel at Hatfield, it went against her very being to consent to such an obvious display of blasphemy, she chose instead to pray by the large wooden crucifix in her room, taking comfort in being in its presence, it made her feel somehow closer to her mother.

She had prayed for her little half-brother, William, when she had heard of his birth a week before, she had prayed for his good health and life and as she always did for the souls of Anne and her father.

Today she prayed for forgiveness, from God, and from her mother, for the terrible action she was about to commit.

The letter Hal had sent her lay on the floor next to her; in it he had begged her to sign the oath before it was too late. He had also informed her that if she did so soon, she may have the hope of being reconciled with their father before William's christening, which due to his premature birth had been postponed to the first of June, to coincide with the day of Anne's coronation three years before, stupidly she had not done as he wished, and now the prospect of attending her little brother's christening, of possibly taking part in the service, was gone.

She feared she may have left it too late, Anne may have promised Mary her support, but her father was yet to even commune a single message to her.

Moving herself from her position on the cold floor of her bedchamber, Mary moved to sit at the only table in her tiny room. She had already started her letter of submission, but she had been unable to get more than twenty words on the page before she had broken down in tears and found the need to (for the third time) pray for forgiveness and her soul.

The letter was addressed to Anne, for Mary was not stupid enough to communicate to her father without his whores…without his wife's support.

_To Her Majesty, Queen Anne of England, my most right and noble step-mother, that_  was as far as Mary had got in three days, once again picking up her quill, she began to write, her heart beating loudly with every word, she could all but see her mother turning in her grave.

_I humbly ask your gracious Majesty, for pardon for not extending my congratulations at the birth of Prince William, my brother the future king, earlier, and I thank Your Majesty most gratefully for your offer of consolidation regarding my mother, the Dowager princess' death, it truly warmed my heart._

_Most importantly I thank Your Grace, for your offer of support and reconciliation with my father, the King, by whom I have been a most horrible and ungrateful daughter and servant, and who I beg of you to ask forgiveness of on my behalf._

_I wish to show my support to Your Majesties and if it is the wish of you both to return to court, I consent to signing the oath of succession, in the hope that such a promise will allow me to return to the good graces of the King, and become friends with Your Majesty, whose offer of kindness I hardly deserve._

_Your loving and obedient step-daughter,_

_The Lady Mary Tudor,_

" God forgive me," Mary whispered, a stream of tears rolling freely down her face.

* * *

_**1** _ _**st** _ _**of June 1536** _

_**Chapel Royal Hampton Court Palace** _

As the French ambassador, and therefore the proxy of King Francis, it was entrusted to Ambassador de Bellay to carry Prince Williams into the chapel.

The procession of Prince William's christening rivalled both King Henry's and Queen Anne's coronations, of that he were certain. Directly behind him was George Boleyn, the Prince's uncle and other Godfather holding in his arms the little Princess Elizabeth, dressed splendidly in a gown of gold, and a small tiara on top of her head. In her chubby little hands she carried the baby's elaborate robe. Behind them walked the former Lady Frances Brandon, now lady Grey, who was standing as proxy for her aunt Queen Margret of the Scots, in her hands was the chrism oil, her sister, Lady Eleanor was by her side, standing as proxy for princess Margret of Navarre, one of Queen Anne's closest friend's during her time at the French court.

The golden canopy that floated above the procession was being held by three of the Queen's most trusted friends, the poet sir Thomas Wyatt, Sir Henry Norris, and Sir Mark Smeaton (who had been knighted in honour of the occasion) as well as the Queen's father, the newly created Duke of Wiltshire. The rest of the court followed in behind them, in order of precedence, the King's illegitimate son leading the way.

As was the royal custom, Queen Anne was not present at her child's christening, and Bellay had it on good authority that the Queen had kicked up quite a fuss at the prospect of missing such an important moment in her son's life. The King too had decided to remain absent so that the attention of the court would remain solely on the little Prince.

As Bellay watched the last of the procession file into the chapel he could not help but notice one obvious absence, the Seymour family were not present, and while the Boleyn faction may have viewed this as an obvious sign of the King's returned love for his wife, Bellay himself knew better.

As an ambassador it was his duty to know the goings on of the court, and he knew for certain that the King had, only a week before taken Jane Seymour to his bed. Their absence was, more than anything else, Henry's way of keeping Anne calm and in the unknown, for the longer she went without knowing he had taken a mistress so soon after her deliverance of his heir, the better the relationship of the royal couple would remain.

Not wanting anyone to question the legitimacy of his son, King Henry had spared no expense for the lavish ceremony, beacons had been lit in the Prince's honour, a lavish mask and joust planned for that afternoon, free food and wine had been disturbed thorough every corner of the realm all in the name of the little prince and the Queen Anne, who was being praised throughout every corner of England for delivering England their long awaited heir.

The King had even extended an invitation to the ceremony to the common people, stressing his wishes that William's birth be a public celebration, he was the People's Prince and Henry intended that every man, woman, and child would know it. Due to this the chapel was filled to the brim, both courtier and commoner alike wishing to see Prince William, beyond the chapel's walls, were the masses of people who had not arrived early enough to actually be placed inside the chapel, none would leave, too afraid that if they did they would miss the opportunity to see the royal family, the cries of well wishes to the King and his young family could be heard from a mile away and Bellay could not help but think how different it had all been only months before.

It wasn't long ago that Queen Anne had been seen as nothing but a whore to both nobility and simpleton alike, the birth of her son had changed all that, and Bellay could not be happier with the way things had eventuated.

Not only was Queen Anne a firm ally of France, being an old friend of King Francis, and staunchly against an Imperial alliance, but she was also a woman he had grown quite fond of, her wit and charm enticing him as it did so many others.

When the procession reached Archbishop Crammer he looked upon the naked baby with a smile, before taking him gently out of the ambassador's arms and presenting him to the chapel of people, to show that no sign of deformities existed on the silky smooth skin.

Crammer than placed the small bundle in the crook of his arm, to which the little Prince, clearly sensing something out of the ordinary was about to happen, started grumbling.

" In the name of the father," Crammer started splashing William with the first lot of water, the little Prince let out an almighty wail in response, and every man, woman and child let out a little sigh of relief knowing that to be a sign that the Prince was free of the devil, " the son, and the holy ghost, I baptise thee William, may God bless and keep you all the days of your life and give you abundantly his grace, through Jesus Christ our lord, Amen,"

Crammer's words were met with a deafening chorus of "Amen," all except little Princess Elizabeth, who had taken it upon herself, to tell her uncle, that Archbishop Crammer was going to get a right telling off for making her baby brother cry, the now Earl of Wiltshire did nothing but laugh in response, telling Elizabeth that it was all part of the  _experience._

William was then placed in the arms of Lady Grey, who, helped by her sister, changed her little cousin into his christening gown, which Bellay personally thought was one of the finest pieces of clothing he had ever seen. The Queen was rumoured to have spent the duration of her pregnancy making the gold and white lace garment, wanting it to be fit for the future King of England.

The child was then returned to the arms of the Ambassador to lead the procession back into the Queen's privy chamber where the royal couple were awaiting their son's return.

A herald called loudly from the front of the procession the whole way back to the Queens apartments, repeating the same phrase over and over for all to hear, "God of his almighty and infinite grace, give and grant good life and long to the right high, right excellent and noble, Prince William, Duke of Cornwall and Earl of Chester, most dear and entirely beloved son to our most great and gracious lord King Henry the eighth and his most virtuous wife, Queen Anne,"

As much as he was honoured when Francis had asked him to be his proxy, Bellay, could not help but worry as he carried the squirming Prince down what seemed to be an endless journey to his mother's arms. King Henry had once joked that if the Ambassador was to drop his precious son it would mean war, and Bellay could not help but think of those words with every step he took.

When he finally arrived at his destination, Bellay could not have been more pleased when he handed the little Prince over to one of the Queen's ladies, who in turn placed him in his mother's waiting arms.

The Queen was positively radiant, seated at a chair in her sitting chambers with the King by her side. She wore her hair in lose curls, a small golden crown atop her head. Both members of the royal couple were dressed extravagantly, Anne in a rich mahogany gown, with black fur trimmings, the jewels of the Queens of England draped extravagantly across her neck. The king for his part looked just as fine, dressed in a white and gold outfit, perfectly matching the large crown on his head, and the wide smile on his face as he looked down at his now settled son in his wife's arms.

When Anne looked up from her son's face, every member of the now much smaller procession dropped into a respectful bow or curtsey, and Anne smiled widely at them all before placing a large kiss on her son's forehead lovingly.

"King Frances offers his warmest congratulations Your Majesties," Bellay said kindly, out of the corner of his eye he could see the Princess Elizabeth running into her father's arms with a squeal of delight, as he swung her around in his arms, this left the two of them all but alone.

"We thank his majesty most sincerely," Anne replied, laughing at her husbands and daughters antics beside them.

"Allow me also to offer my warmest congratulations Your Majesty, it truly was the most welcome news I had heard in a long while," Bellay added in low tone, his words French, he knew that she would understand every one of them perfectly.

" Thank-you excellency," Anne replied kindly, stretching out a hand for him to kiss, it was the calmest he had seen her in a long while, and he knew that her happiness was not just due to the birth of little William, but also in part due to the notable absence of one particular lady and her family.

" Mama, Mama," Elizabeth called from her father's arms, the two of them staring intently out of Anne's large window and out onto the balcony that overlooked the larger palace gardens, and the main courtyard entrance.

"Yes my Sweet," Anne replied smiling at her daughter, "what is it?"

"Come look at all the people," Elizabeth demanded her excitement bubbling over.

Standing carefully, Anne readjusted William's position in her arms and made her way to stand beside her husband and daughter. Elizabeth  _was right_  there were a lot of people, standing patiently at the palace entrance, clearly hoping they would see some glimpse of the royal couple.

"Shall we my love?" Anne pondered aloud motioning to her balcony, it would do them no harm to step out onto it, and present the little Prince to the people he would one day rule over.

"I see no reason why not," Henry replied, but before he opened the door completely Anne placed a delicate hand over his arm stopping him, "Anne?"

"Hal," Anne called over her shoulder, when she had caught the young man's attention, she motioned him over with a nod of her head.

"Father, my lady step-mother," Hal murmured with a shallow bow.

"Now my love," Anne said gesturing for Henry to lead the way, Elizabeth in his arms, and Hal close at his heels. The noise emitting from the crowd was enough to wake the dead, and Anne was scared as she walked out, William cradled safely in her arms, that the noise would scare him or possibly damage his delicate little ears.

It soon became apparent however, that she had needn't worried, for once the people noticed the Royal family standing before them on the balcony a thick silence emerged, and as Anne and Henry came further forward, their children in their arms, and Hal close behind them, the crown dropped to their knees as one.

This was what Anne had always dreamed of, this moment was  _perfection_ ….almost, it was  _almost_  perfection, Anne reminded herself, The Lady Mary was not her, and Henry was despite his claims to the contrary still very much  _involved_  with Jane Seymour, yet Anne was quite sure that she could rectify both problems in time, and so she was for now content in knowing that she was truly on the edge of the golden world she had envisioned and promised to deliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N So for my new readers, who have not read this story before on fanfiction.net, this was the end of the first act of the story with the birth of Prince William. As I said in the original authors note this story is up to 27 chapters, with no current end in sight. I have the plan for the story set out but do not yet know how many chapters it will cover, but I would say there will be a lot more. 
> 
> I would be interested in your thoughts, so please review. This story was published in January of 2012 so I have been working on it for eight years, as such I would also like to note that my writing style has developed and improved over the course of those six years. But at this stage I have no intention of rewriting my earlier chapters. 
> 
> On another note in regards to Henry, I intended for my story to show a realistic side to Anne and Henry's marriage, the birth of their son will not magically fix all that has come between them.


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